I Had Not Intended To Love Him
by Beautiful-blue
Summary: Franziska and Godot are forced to work together on a case. Although they initially hate one another, things soon begin to change between them. Very very loosely based on Jane Eyre...
1. Prologue

Feb 20, 2019

"I'm amazed you agreed to come to lunch with me, Edgeworth," Phoenix told his old friend, and he smiled at him across the table, "You've always turned me down before."

"It was nothing personal; I just generally consider it a waste of time to take a break in the middle of the day when one can get work done while they eat," Miles said simply.

"So what changed your mind today?" the defense attorney asked with honest curiosity.

"I couldn't get any work done anyway," Miles said frowning slightly. Phoenix's eyes dimmed slightly as he realized that the prosecutor had no intention of explaining himself any further.

"Why?" He urged shortly.

"Franziska and Godot are bickering like children, and they insist on doing it very loudly. Almost makes me wish he had gotten incarcerated…"

"Miles!"

"I wasn't serious, Wright. There's no need to get on your moral high horse. But they are very extraordinarily annoying. I had thought that Franziska was a force that couldn't be reckoned with, but I fear she's met her match…"

"Can I see?" Phoenix asked earnestly.

"See?"

"Yeah, can I come to the prosecutor's office after lunch? I want to see how bad it is."

"You're a glutton for punishment to go seeking out the two people who have physically assaulted you in court while they're both in terrible moods, but who am I to stop you from your folly? I'll give you a ride if you're really up to it," Miles said, watching Phoenix over the rim of his teacup. Phoenix simply nodded his head and smiled.

oOo

"That case was supposed to be mine."

"Well, too bad. I got to it first."

"Give it back!"

"It's not a toy, Filly. I'm not going to give it to you just because you're throwing a tantrum."

"You knew I wanted it. You knew I was interested in it. You took it just to bother me! Give it back!"

"Listen, Kid," Godot said, standing up abruptly. He leaned forward with his coffee mug on top of her head to ensure balance, and made sure she knew he was looking her in the eye, "This is a case for an under-aged prostitution ring. The scum that we're prosecuting makes his money by taking advantage of little girls like you. What kind of a man would I be if I let you any where near him?"

"I can take care of myself, you stupid fool," Franziska said, bucking her head so that he'd stumbled. She grabbed the case file out of his grip as he found his balance and turned to walk away. "And I'm almost twenty!"

"Goody gum-drops for you, kiddo. Only two birthdays away from drinking; you certainly are a big grown-up now, aren't you?" Godot said sarcastically, walking towards her. His voice reflected humor, but his face was deadly serious. "You're a baby, now give me the file."

"I'll have you know I've been prosecuting for almost seven years now. Far longer than-" Godot grabbed the file; Franziska jerked back; papers flew everywhere.

"That was you're fault," they said simultaneously. Ignoring the documents now strewn over the floor, Franziska lashed out with her whip. Looking for all the world like the hero of some slave story, Godot let the thing wrap around his arm before yanking back and pulling it away from her. Not letting her surprise get the better of her, Franziska reached forward and knocked the coffee mug out of his hand.

"You little bitch!" Godot hissed in surprise, "That was blend #65!"

Franziska reached forward and tried to take his mask off.

"Oh, that is low," he said taking her wrists to stop her from blinding him. "That's it, Kiddo. You get a time out." Moving quickly he lifted her up and held her over his shoulder.

"Put me down! This isn't dignified." Godot just grinned. He wouldn't have, if he'd understood what he dealing with. Franziska moved, in his arms, until she could reach his head, and deftly removed his mask. She then pounded his back hard, and he dropped her.

"Damn! Give that back."

"Not on your life, fool!" Franziska said with a smirk and she started to walk away.

"Where are you going with that?!" He asked upon hearing the sound of her retreating heels.

"I'm going to hide it. Imagine the fun you'll have trying to find it when the whole world is an excellent hiding place!" He growled and tried to follow her.

"Aw, I think they're friends," Phoenix said, peering around the side of the secretary's desk.

"You're an ass, Wright."

"You're the one hiding with me," Phoenix pointed out. Miles sighed heavily.

oOo

Franziska and Godot glared at one another. Godot was sitting on the couch, sipping his coffee, and Franziska was sitting in Edgeworth's chair and spinning it just slightly from side to side. Even with the mask, it was easy to tell that neither of them was breaking the gaze.

"So why did you ask us to meet in my little brother's office?" Franziska asked, not turning to look at Phoenix.

"Well, I figured it should be mutual territory," the defense attorney said nervously. Realizing that neither of them was going to pay him any real attention, he sighed, "Listen, guys. You've been assigned that case together and you're going to have to get along."

"So where is my little brother?"

"He's seven years older than you. Is math really that hard for girls?" Godot asked.

"I didn't think Hispanics did very well in school either," Franziska replied scathingly.

"Would the two of you stop for a second?" Phoenix said in annoyance.

"She called me Hispanic!"

"Well…" Phoenix said awkwardly, "Aren't you?"

"Well yeah, but she meant it as an insult."

"It was an insult," Franziska announced.

"At least I'm not a Nazi."

"I am not a Nazi!"

"Bet you're dick of a father was."

"He wasn't old enough to-"

"Oh my God, would the two of you just stop!" Phoenix cried in exasperation. "I just want to help!"

Franziska and Godot turned to him and glowered. They looked like children who had gotten in trouble and were simply waiting for the lecture to be over so that they could continue misbehaving.

"Here's your coffee stained case report," Phoenix said tossing down the poor forgotten file from the day before. "And really I think if you'd give one another a chance you'd fine you're not that different."

Receiving nothing but glares, Phoenix sighed and left the room. They turned to one another, expressions no less furious, and both left without a word.

oOo

"You really need to stop sticking your nose into other people's business," Miles said, as he drove Phoenix back to his apartment.

"But they need help."

"Contrary to what you seem to believe, it is not your job to help every poor soul who his having some sort of issue."

Phoenix frowned, "I don't do that."

Miles raised an eyebrow, "If you say so. Just promise that you'll leave them be and stay out of it."

"Promise," Phoenix said, before quickly adding, "Unless they _really_ need it."


	2. Chapter 1

Feb 21, 2019

Godot sighed heavily as he picked up one of the documents that had been strewn across the table before him. Sipping his coffee with a frown, he looked it over with great concern. It was disgusting, really, the sheer number of papers that sat before him. It wasn't that he was being lazy, not with this case anyway, it was what each and every sheet represented. Each one gave the sparse details of a girl who had been involved in the prostitution ring. There were at least fifty documents on the table before him, that was at least fifty girls who had had their innocence taken from them. Any one who could put so many girls, for none of them were women, into this sort of position was truly a disgusting human being.

"Mein Gott, how could this have gone on for so long with no one noticing," Franziska murmured to herself. Godot watched her thumb through the case overview from across the table. He still wasn't particularly pleased about having to work with her, but when orders came from higher up, there was very little he could do. This case was far from either of their usual fare; less murderous, perhaps, but bigger. The investigation into precisely the size of the ring was still ongoing, and there were probably a number of other culprits involved who had yet to be convicted. Yet they had a few people who were believed to be in charge who needed to be prosecuted as soon as possible. If they wanted enough information to make their case convincing, however, Franziska and Godot would need to search out what they wanted. It was certainly a job for two.

"What's the case file say?" Godot asked sipping his coffee.

"Richard T. Ator and Tod Ali Arion have been arrested on suspicion of being the ring leaders of a city wide prostitution ring. Working for them were a number of runaway teenage girls. They were kept in various motels throughout the city, where the managers were paid off to not ask questions. If a man was interested in purchasing their services, he need only go to a certain website. There were passwords involved in nearly every step of the process. To get on to the website, to get into one of the girls rooms, and even to transfer money. It was exceedingly difficult to hack on to the website, but one of our policemen managed to do it. So far, the two men who were arrested have been connected to the bank account that was being used, however, that's all we have. The girls have been rescued, apparently, but they've all refused to speak with authorities."

"Guess it's up to us then, to get them to talk. Does it say anything about where we can find them?" Godot asked, leaning back in his chair and sighing.

"There is a home for runaway girls in the city. Those who couldn't or wouldn't be reunited with their families have been placed there for the time being," Franziska answered.

"Well then, I say we get down there," Godot announced, stretching as he stood up from his chair. Franziska fixed him with a cocky smirk and shook her head.

"_You_ can not go," she told him smugly. "_Men_ are not permitted inside the home. Considering how you flaunt your manliness, I do not think you will be able to get anywhere near it."

"Come on, this is an investigation. They have to let me in."

"We're lawyers; not police. This is completely unofficial. No one has to let us do anything. Now why don't you sit down here like a good little boy while I go do some real work."

Godot looked her over carefully for a moment. Taking in everything from the proud smile on her face to the point of the toes at the end of her crossed legs. He frowned and shook his head.

"I can't, in good conscious, let a naïve little rich girl like you wander into a house of misery all by yourself. Those girls, the prostitutes, have experienced horrors you can't even imagine. They're lives have been full of poverty and sadness. You couldn't possibly handle it. I'm not letting you go alone."

"You fool! What say do you have over what I do? And besides, what do you know of the life I have lived. Rich? Yes. But I am far from naïve. I have experienced my fair share of misery!" Franziska shouted standing.

"You have no idea what it's like to struggle," Godot growled darkly.

"Just because I'm rich? Money doesn't protect you from everything. You have no idea what my life was like!"

"Tell me about your petty little hardships."

"Well, completely ignoring the fact that my father was put to death for the murder of my adopted brother's father, my childhood was terribly lonely. I wasn't allowed to leave the estate, my father lived in another country, I was raised by an endless parade of his trophy wives, my older sister was married to a man my father's age before I was even born, and Miles Edgeworth, the only friend I had, was constantly being shipped off to boarding school!" Franziska stopped talking abruptly and eyed the other prosecutor murderously, as though she were daring him to say anything to refute her statement.

He did seem mildly surprised at the outburst, but after a moment he shook his head again. "That sucks, Kid, but its still nothing like what these girls have gone through. I'm sorry, but there is no way you'll be able to handle talking to these women."

"I don't care what you think. I am going." Franziska told him, her voice deep with anger. Godot exhaled slowly, to try and get a hold on his temper.

"I'm not saying you can't go. I'm just saying you should take someone with you. An older woman with a little more experience."

"I suppose you have someone in mind?" Franziska asked, raising an eyebrow slightly.

"Just give me a day and you'll have the perfect partner."

oOo

Feb 22, 2019

"Aren't you Phoenix Wright's dead boss?"

"Yes. You're Manfred von Karma's daughter?"

"Yes. I hear that you dated that blind fool I'm being forced to work with?"

"Yes actually."

"Why?"

"He grows on you. Trust me," Mia said with a small smile. "Now why don't we get going."

Together they climbed into Franziska's waiting Limousine and began a long and silent ride to the Girl's Home. The living passenger busied herself with her paperwork as a means of avoiding any actual conversation. Mia watched the girl out of the corner of her eye, intrigued by Diego's new coworker. She was bent over her work, her brow was furrowed and she was chewing her lip slightly. Franziska looked older than Maya, although Mia knew them to be the same age- it was as though a middle aged woman had been buried behind a rosy cheeked girl, and the age shone through in strange and unexpected ways. Franziska noticed that she was being watched and turned herself slightly so that it was harder for Mia to get a good look at her.

The limousine eventually pulled up outside an assuming brick building. It was relatively small compared with the neighbors, but there was something welcoming about it. Each window had its own planter, and the spots of brilliant natural color were a pleasant surprise to find so deep within the city. A sign painted in pleasant shades of blue hung above the door proudly stating: _Mrs. Russ's Home for Women and Children_.

"It certainly doesn't look like a sorrowful place," Franziska observed as she absentmindedly waved away her driver. Mia turned and looked at her, smiling slightly in a somewhat bewildered way.

"Why would it?" she asked.

"Why would it not?" Franziska countered. "It's filled with impoverished women and hungry children, none of who have anywhere else to go. And that's to say nothing of our recovered prostitutes."

"This isn't a morgue, Franziska, or even a jail cell. It's not a final resting place for these people as they wait to die. It's a rest stop, a place for people to get back on their feet. It's a safe place for those who've suffered. I think it looks just as it should."

Franziska gave the building another glance, but she didn't seem entirely convinced. She said nothing, however, and simply shrugged before pushing her way through the door ahead of Mia.

The inside was, much like the outside, pleasantly if inexpensively furnished. They entered into a wide hallway that had a few rooms branching off, and what appeared to be an elevator far in the back. A small table with pamphlets was set besides the door, and there were chairs along the walls. The first room had a small sign proclaiming it to be the office, and so the two women entered there.

"Hello, may I help you?" a small older woman asked as they entered, "Are you looking for a specific person or a place to stay?"

"We're lawyers," Franziska told her quickly, uninterested in conversation. "I'm part of a team prosecuting two men who have been charged as orchestraters in a prostitution ring. We are interested in talking with some of the young women who were part of the ring. The Police Department told us a number of the girls were here."

The woman looked them over slightly, before nodding. I'll go talk to the girls. I can't guarantee that any of them will speak with you, however, I'll ask. I'll let you into our visiting room for now, and I'll bring down anyone who agrees to it."

"I suppose that will do," Franziska answered with a shrug.

"I think what my colleague means is 'thank you'." Mia added quickly, "We're grateful for anything you can do Ms…?"

"Ms. Russ. But you can call me Jenny if you'd like. All the girls here do." She smiled at Mia, and led her two visitors into a comfortable sitting room. "I'll be right back."

Mia sat down on a comfortable red armchair and looked around. The room was relatively sizable, although this made sense considering it was probably one of the only common rooms in the home. There was a large but ancient television in one corner of the room, but for the most part the walls were lined with bookshelves. They had clearly been purchased or donated at different times, as they were all made of different colored woods or plywood. The collection of books was really rather impressive. In fact Franziska, upon entering, had immediately set about reading the spines of books and judging the library for herself.

"What have they got?" Mia asked her, only mildly interested.

"This shelf is all bibles," Franziska announced, walking by one bookcase. "There are children's books over here; I've never read any of these."

"Really? Are they weird ones?"

"Ah, no. I wasn't particularly interested in books aimed at children when I was young. I much preferred to read from my father's library."

"I suppose any one who became a lawyer at thirteen would have had to have been reading law books when everyone else was reading Dr. Seuss," Mia said quietly.

"Your foolish boyfriend would have taken that opportunity to make a _Mein Kampf _joke," Franziska told her bluntly as she thumbed through one particularly large tome.

"He never did have very good taste in humor," Mia said thoughtfully. She was quiet for a moment, lost in her memories, before asking, "What are you looking at now?"

"The complete collection of William Shakespeare. It doesn't have terribly good foot notes."

"I suppose you're in the drama section then?"

"British literature, I believe. There are some Austen and Bronte sisters books here as well."

The door opened suddenly. Jenny Russ entered, followed by four girls all around Franziska's age. The four of them sat next to one another on a couch opposite Mia. They were a varied group, both in looks and behavior.

On the side of the couch farthest from the door, was probably the youngest of the girls. Her stringy blond hair fell in front of her face and she had her knees pulled up against her chest. Her blue eyes flickered up to observe the two lawyers every so often, but for the most part she stared at the floor.

Next to her was a taller girl, probably in her early twenties, the oldest in the group. Her black hair was pulled back into a large puff on the back of her head, and she sat with her arm around the meek girl next to her. There was a sort of strength in her eyes, and she smiled at Mia in a slight but determined way.

Beside her, in the other corner of the couch was a girl with long reddish brown hair that cascaded down her shoulders and all the way down to her waist. She watched the two lawyers with mild disinterest and she seemed more engrossed in curling her locks around her fingers. She had deep green eyes that seemed to dare the women to say anything against her.

Perched on the arm of the couch was the last girl. Her hair hung just to her ears and had been dyed black and purple. She was chewing at her lip angrily, and staring without really looking at the bookshelf behind Mia. All four of the girls were dressed in simple blue knee-length dresses that had clearly been given to them by the house.

"I'll be in the office if anyone needs me," Mrs. Russ said quietly. She gave her girls an encouraging smile and then left the room. There was silence as the girls took another moment to look over the lawyers, and Franziska took the time to sit in an armchair beside the one occupied by Mia.

"What are your names, if you don't mind me asking?" the tallest girl asked.

"Oh, I'm sorry. We should have done that right off the bat. My name is Mia Fey and this is Franziska Von Karma."

"Are you even old enough to be a lawyer?" the girl with long curls asked, glancing up at Franziska with a sardonic smirk.

"I've been a lawyer for six years now. Talent is much more important than age," Franziska answered angrily. The girl rolled her eyes slightly.

"My name is Tena," the tall girl said to Mia, as though Franziska and the other girl had not spoken. "This sweet thing here is Tammy," she added squeezing the girl she was holding. "On my other side is Kelly, and down at the end is Ira. There are more girls upstairs, but they're not quite ready to talk. Actually, Tammy isn't much ready to talk either, she just wanted to be with me. I'd be grateful if you left her alone with your questions."

"Of course, we wouldn't want to make anyone uncomfortable. We just want to help, and any information you could give us would be great," Mia told her gently.

"We don't know much," Ira said suddenly, looking Mia in the eye. "Everything was pretty much a secret."

"We've heard you met… clients in hotel rooms, is that true?" Franziska asked leaning forward.

"We didn't leave the hotel rooms," Kelly said, "They kept us there. Anyway, I don't see how that helps you."

"So you never met any of the people running the ring?" Franziska asked. The girls shook their heads. "You must have met someone besides clients, though?"

The girls all looked at one another. Tena turned to speak, "There was a man in my hotel. He lived there with us. He made sure we were fed, got us clothes, that sort of thing. He was our only connection to the outside world. I'd guess there was someone like that in the other hotels as well."

"There was a guy like that at mine," Ira added quietly.

"Mine too," Kelly agreed.

"We-we had one… like that," Tammy said, nestling further into Tena's side after speaking.

"That's actually quite helpful," Franziska said. She turned to Mia, "If any of the hotels kept records of people who stayed there, we might be able to route out some of these men. They'll probably be able to get us a lot more information. We should contact the police station as soon as possible."

"Thank you four so much. I'm sure it's very difficult to talk about," Mia said to the girls.

"The men who hurt you will be prosecuted and punished," Franziska added sternly.

"Is there anything we can do to help you? Any questions you'd like to ask us?"

The girls glanced at one another again. Kelly spoke first, "Why are you dressed like that?"

Mia seemed taken aback for a moment, "Oh, well, this is my sister's dress. I suppose it doesn't quite fit me…"

"Not really," Kelly said, "You should probably get some of your own clothes."

"Yes well, usually it's not a problem… Anyway I meant if you had any questions more along the lines of the case."

"You promise these guys will get what's coming to them?" Ira asked. Franziska nodded assuredly.

"It's a blessing to hear," Tena said. "It's hard for us. We're all trying to build up our lives again, you know? We're trying to start over. This place has been a miracle, and I'm glad we're all together. But knowing so many of these guys are still out there. It makes it harder to move on. If they're all taken away, if we know there's no chance of ever running into them again… well, it makes it a little easier to put them into the past, and to really see the future as something new and separate. Thank you, ladies, for everything you're doing."

"You're welcome. I hope things go well for all of you from here on out," Mia said standing up. "Now we really should get back to the prosecutors office and make this information known to the state."

The two lawyers left the building, and Franziska made two quick calls, one to her limo driver and the other to police headquarters. Mia sighed heavily and looked back at the women's home, before she was broken from her reverie by the words of her companion.

"It is truly horrible," Franziska said gruffly, shutting her cell phone with a click and shoving it into her pocket. She glared thoughtfully at the sidewalk.

"Yes…" Mia agreed quietly. "But I think those girls, the four we met, may turn out all right in the end."

"Perhaps," Franziska said shrugging. The limo pulled up outside the home, and the two women climbed in.

"There's something to be said for a healthy understanding of the future. Being able to move on from the past is really important, don't you think?" Mia asked quietly.

"I suppose," Franziska answered, unsure of why Mia was so intent on this topic of conversation.

"I mean if you spend all your time thinking about the tragedies and people from your past, how are you ever supposed to live your life? I've always been impressed with how my Sister handled my death. She may seem silly sometimes, but she really is very strong. I don't feel as though I have to worry about her. But I worry… I worry about… some people," she ended anticlimactically.

"Phoenix Wright?" Franziska asked.

"No," Mia said, and laughed. "As long as there's someone for him to help there's nothing that can stop him. He'll be fine no matter what."

"I can't believe he survived falling through that bridge," Franziska said quietly as the limo pulled up outside the Prosecutor's office.

"That's exactly what I mean about him," Mia said smiling as she climbed out of the vehicle.

Godot was waiting for them and he came up hurriedly to greet them, "You two alright?"

"Have you seriously been waiting there the entire time?" Franziska asked coldly. She turned to Mia, "I actually enjoyed spending the day with you. It's a pity that you're dead, I might have liked to know you."

She then left, her heels clicking as she climbed the stairs to the office.

"So, was she that much of a bitch all day?" Godot asked. He turned to look at Mia, and ran his hand through his hair.

"Actually, I kind of liked her. Considering what I know about her father, I think its pretty impressive that she's not completely evil," Mia finished talking, and an awkward silence fell over the pair. Neither of them knew precisely how to act with the other. They hadn't had a proper conversation since Godot had been poisoned. He started to open his mouth to speak, but she interrupted him.

"We need to talk, Diego," Mia's voice was quiet but firm, and she looked at him squarely.

"Of course…" he responded gently. Beneath his mask, his brows knit together in concern. Her words and tone of voice could only mean bad news. Mia took his large hands into her smaller ones and rubbed them reassuringly with her thumbs.

"I love you, Diego. I always will. And it's because I love you that I need you to move on."

"What do you mean?" He asked quietly.

"I'm dead, Diego. I know that, for me, death doesn't seem quite so final as it should, but it doesn't change the facts. We can't be together anymore." He tried to speak again, to interrupt her and stop her from finishing, for if she came to the end of her speech it would inevitably break his heart. She wouldn't let him stop her. She squeezed his hands tighter, and her voice grew all the more firm. "I don't want you to let this stop you in your tracks. I want you to keep living to the fullest. To make up for the time when you were sleeping. I don't want you to spend the rest of your life living for something you cannot have again."

"I don't want to forget you," he told her desperately, laying one hand on the side of her face. She smiled and leaned into his touch.

"I don't want you to forget me. You can remember me and still more forward."

"It's all my fault. If only I'd-"

"Don't talk like that. My death had nothing to do with you; there's nothing you could have done to prevent it. Just, please, promise me you'll start living for your future and not for your past. Can you promise me that?"

"Mia…"

"Diego, please! I'm not going to be the reason that you spend the rest of your life in misery. You've been saved from death more than once. You've been given a great gift. Please don't waste it on my account." She looked up at him, pleading but firm. Godot stepped back slightly, so that he could see more of her before saying very quietly.

"I promise."

"Thank you," she said, leaning up and kissing him gently on the cheek. "Now, I think you have work to do, and I have a sister who would probably like to have use of her body again."

Unable to formulate a sentence good enough to truly say goodbye with, Godot gave Mia one last hug before heading back towards the Prosecutor's office. On the top step he turned to see her again, but instead saw Maya standing on the sidewalk looking slightly confused.

"You should come inside, Kid. I'm pretty sure your spiky haired friend is up in Edgeworth's office," he said quietly.

"Oh, really? Thanks!" Maya said happily. She bounded up the stairs, and stopped in front of him, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

"If you say so. Because if anything's wrong then-"

"I'm fine. Now go find your lawyer and I'll see you around." Maya hesitated just slightly before following his directions and running off to find Phoenix.

Godot slowly made his way to his own office. He felt remarkably empty as he sat himself down at his desk.

"There you are. I've been waiting for you. We got some interesting leads at the home and I think that we should-" Franziska began, opening his door without so much as a knock.

"I'm not in the mood, Filly," he answered quietly, his voice strained. For once Franziska did not respond with an angry tirade. Instead she asked him a quiet question.

"Would you like some coffee?"

Just slightly touched, Godot took a moment before answering, "That would be nice. My stash is-"

"I know," she said opening one of his office cupboards and taking out some coffee beans. "I'll be right back," she told him, and left.

Godot sat alone with his thoughts. He felt utterly aimless and alone. He began to cry, tears sneaking out from behind his mask and falling onto the polished wood of his desk. At the sound of returning heels he hastily wiped his face.

Franziska handed him a warm a mug, and then stood stiffly beside his desk, clearly unsure of how she should talk to him. She was not the most comforting presence.

"I think…" she began, but then stopped seeming to think the better of it, before heading towards the door. She stopped as she reached the threshold and turned to look at him. He was watching her, still curious as to what she hadn't said.

"I think Ms. Fey, would have wanted you to be happy. I… I don't think she abides much by moping." She stood stock still by the door, unsure if she should say more or simply leave.

"Thanks, Kid," Godot said quietly, "thanks for the coffee, and… well, just thanks."


	3. Chapter 2

Feb 24, 2019

The day after the visit to the Girls' Home, there was some small change between Godot and Franziska. Initially she approached him with some trepidation, unsure of precisely what had caused his change in behavior the day prior or if these changes would still be in place. She found him waiting in his office with a large cup of coffee and his nose buried in a police report. She decided to start with a basic question so that she could test the waters.

"What does it say?"

He looked up at her, put the report down, and took a large swig from his mug.

"They've begun investigating some of the hotels that were involved in the ring. From the twelve hotels they've looked at so far, they've found three names of interest. One man is now in police custody, another is being tracked down as we speak, and the third guy they've got nothing on but the name."

"Have they spoken to the man in custody yet?" Franziska asked, pulling up a chair to the opposite side of the desk. Godot shook his head.

"They said we'd be getting a transcript of the questioning later today, but so far they've given us nothing."

"So what is our next move?" Franziska asked, the question was directed at herself as much as at him. She wrinkled her brow and leaned on the table with her chin in one hand, thinking deeply about the answer.

"I say we wait until we find out how the questioning went. There might be some interesting leads in what he says, or we might have to question him ourselves, either way we can't do much until the police have finished with him," Godot shrugged and took a sip.

"How long did they say it would be?" Franziska asked.

"I don't know. The detective gave me the report about an hour ago, and said they'd be starting in on the guy almost immediately. So, I'm figuring they'll be done with him soon enough," He took another sip, "You want something to drink?"

"No. I had some tea before I came to work." She was silent for a little too long before adding, "But thank you anyway."

"Bleah," said Godot, "Tea."

"Have you ever tried it?"

"Tea is a woman's drink," Godot announced.

"Miles Edgeworth likes it well enough."

"Oh, like that proves anything." Caught off guard, Franziska snorted in a rather undignified fashion. Godot smiled but said nothing. The two sat in silence for moment, their current conversation at an end, but neither really having anything else to say.

"What were you doing at the office so early?" Franziska asked, in an attempt at light conversation.

"I wasn't sleeping too well," Godot answered gruffly, "Figured I might as well accomplish something."

Silence fell over them again, but before either lawyer could think of something worth saying they were interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Come in," Franziska called before Godot could say anything. It didn't seem to occur to her, that it wasn't her place to invite people into someone else's office.

"Uh, hello Miss von Karma Sir," Gumshoe said nervously as he edged his way into the office.

"Oh, it's Scruffy," Franziska said dismissively, "Did you want something?"

"I have a transcript here, and I was told to bring it to Prosecutor Godot's office. So I was doing that…"

"Well, do it then! Give it to me." Gumshoe obediently did as he was told, hurrying to place the file in her hand. He stood there awkwardly when he was through, worried that whatever he did next would anger her.

Franziska, who had immediately begun reading the transcript, took a moment to notice that he was still present. "Dismissed!" she told him, snapping her fingers, and Gumshoe scurried out the door.

Godot let out an impressed whistle, "Jesus Christ, you are demanding! I suppose the little princess got whatever she wanted growing up, eh?"

"Shut up," she said, "I'm reading."

"You know, he was told to bring the file to _me_, not you."

"I've finished the first sheet, you may have it." She slid a single piece of paper across the desk.

"Thanks, I guess," he said shrugging and picking up the sheet. The room was quiet as they read through the questioning. Franziska finished first, and watched him earnestly as he finished reading. "Pretty interesting stuff."

"That restaurant he mentioned, the one where he met with his coworkers, we should investigate it," Franziska said.

"Won't do us much good in the day time. He said it was only open to the public at night," Godot told her, gesturing to the paper.

"Then we'll just demand that the owner speak with us."

"Personally, I think we'll learn more if we're not making ourselves known. Let the police do all the muscling in. Just having a meal there and listening will probably do much more good."

"So, we should go tonight then?" Franziska asked.

"We? No. I'll go alone. It's too dangerous," Godot said firmly, putting his mug down and looking at her.

"I find you tiresome," Franziska told him, "I am sick of telling you that I don't care what you think. You cannot control my actions!"  
"I'm not taking you down there to investigate!" Godot said angrily. Franziska's lip curled and here eyes flashed, before she suddenly grew reserved again.

"Fine do what you will. Investigate alone. I won't go with you. It's fine."

"Oh, well, good then," Godot said, taken aback by her sudden submission. "I'll tell you what I find out tomorrow."

Franziska nodded and left the room.

OOO

That night Franziska took a taxi to the restaurant in question. She preferred not being hindered by Godot's presence anyway. She had dressed herself in inconspicuous clothing and asked for a table in the corner from which she could see the whole room without drawing much attention to herself.

The evening passed in a rather uneventful sort of way. She saw Godot enter soon after she did, but he took a seat on the other side of room, with his back to most of the tables. Better for listening, she figured, but not so good for seeing. Either way he didn't notice her and the evening went on. A number of unsavory characters came and went, but none of them seemed to be in the act of doing anything wrong, and she saw nothing of particular interest.

She grew bored and began to consider the idea of simply turning the restaurant in for serving her alcohol when a large group of men came in, all together, and sat down at a table near her.

"I think they might be onto us," she heard one man say.

"Who?" said another.

"The cops," replied the first man. They stopped in their conversation when a waiter came up to ask what they wanted to drink. They did not continue speaking until he was gone.

"I think they know about me. I think they've been tracking my calls."

"You idiot!" another man growled, "get out of here. You'll get us all caught. You're on your own now if they've found you out!"

"No! No! See, 'sokay. I bought this thing from this pawnshop today. It messes with frequencies and electronics and stuff. Should stop them from over hearing my calls." The man pulled out a small and sketchy looking metal box and placed it on the table. "The guy promised me it was good."

The man fiddled with his machine, and suddenly there was an earsplitting high-pitched noise. Every cell phone in the room began to emit a similar sound, and suddenly there was a loud pop from across the room.

Franziska looked up to see that Godot's hands had gone to his mask. It was crackling slightly, and its usual red glow had gone out entirely. He stood up hurriedly and staggered forward, leaning on the chair in front of him. It occurred to her, suddenly, that he couldn't see a thing. She cast a quick glance at the table of men next to her; they were now making a fuss over the little machine. She sighed heavily, put her pay on the table and went to Godot.

"Do you need any help?" She asked as she approached him. He glanced around wildly, trying to locate her voice. "I'm here." She said going forward and touching his arm.

"Do I know you?" he asked, not quite managing to look directly at her.

"No," said Franziska, deciding to avoid unwanted discussion, "But you walked into a chair, so I thought you might need help."

"Thanks," he said smiling. "I could use some help actually. You think you could help me call a cab?"

"Let me get you out of here first," she took him by the hand, helped him pay, and the led him out of the restaurant. It was relatively dark out on the street, with only one lamppost there to give any light. Godot fumbled in his pocket for his cell phone and pressed a few buttons.

"Shit," He said, "I think this is fried too."

Franziska found her own phone was acting up as well. "Mine won't work either. Hopefully it's nothing that won't solve itself with time."

There was an old public telephone next to the streetlight, and she began to walk toward it. Godot's hand went out the moment he heard her walking away.

"Where are you going?" he asked with panic. She was surprised to see this side of him and answered in a bewildered voice.

"I'm just going to use a public phone over here. I'll be back in a moment." She left him in his own private darkness to make the phone call. When she returned she brushed against him slightly, as though it were an accident but with the purpose of letting him know that she was back. They stood close together in a comfortable silence until the cab arrived.

Taking him by the hand she helped him into the taxi, and let him give his address as she sat down.

"Are you coming with me?" he asked with a smirk.

"I want to make sure you get home alright," she responded with all seriousness.

"Oh," he said quietly, "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

She rode with him all the way back to his apartment building. She followed him out of the cab with the intention of helping back up to his room.

"I'll be fine from here. I know this place well enough," he said, "Thanks though. You've been a lifesaver. What's your name, by the way?"

"Do you need to know? Can't this just be a sort of…" Franziska lacked the natural inclination towards poetry necessary to express her idea, "Mystery thing?"

"One of life's little miracles, huh? I suppose that would work. Thanks then, Angel." He smiled at her, before making his way into his building. She stared after him for a moment, and then called for her own driver.

oOo

Feb 25, 2019

Franziska was tired, but determined not to show it, when she arrived for work the next day. She made her way to Godot's office, reminding herself to ask him what he had discovered the previous day, even though she knew neither of them had learned anything.

She found him alone in his office. She could see by the glow of his mask, that it was once again in working condition. This did not surprise her, as she had awoken to find her cell phone bore no sign of last night's failure.

"How did last night go?" she asked.

"Waste of an evening. I didn't find anything out." She waited for him to continue but he said nothing. Suddenly he took his mask off; his eyes were closed. "Say something again."

"Excuse me?" she asked incredulously.

"More," he said.

"Why would you want to hear me speak?"

He put his mask back on and stared at her for a moment. "It was you! You were there last night." He stood up angrily and advanced towards her. "I told you it was dangerous and you went anyway. You went alone! Do you have any idea what could have happened to you in a place like that. I've never heard of anything so stupid!"

"I was stupid?" she responded with even more ferocity than Godot possessed himself. "You think _I _was in danger? You followed someone you thought you didn't know out of a restaurant, when you couldn't even direct yourself up from a table. You could have been robbed or murdered and you wouldn't even have had a chance to notice! _I_ would never have been so stupid!"

Godot was cowed by anger and logic. He rather quietly argued, "It turned out alright…"

"Because it was me. Because you were lucky! You're entirely too proud."

Godot sat down at his desk as she glared at him. He opened his mouth a couple times, always thinking the better of what he was going to say. Eventually he decided on the right words. "I'm sorry."

This time Franziska was taken aback; she had not expected him to give into her like that.

Godot kept talking, "You're right. I was stupid. It probably would have been best if we'd acted together in the first place."

She sat down opposite him and looked him over for a second, "I suppose I forgive you for this specific case of pig-headedness."

He smiled at her wearily, "God, but you're hard to please."

"I consider that to be a positive trait."

"Is this a German thing or an only child thing?"

"It is a von Karma thing," she answered, "and I'm not an only child."

"You said your sister was married before you were born. I consider that to be pretty much the same thing." Silence fell between them as they each took the time to truly regain their composure. When Franziska's mood had reached a more companionable level she decided to continue the conversation.

"I suppose you have siblings then?"

"I'm the oldest of six," he told her, before quickly adding, "No Catholic jokes."

"Do you really have five siblings?" she asked in disbelief.

"We're all within seven years of each other too. Although there's a set of twins so it's not quite as ridiculous as it sounds."

"It still sounds pretty ridiculous to me," Franziska told him. However, she quickly asked, "What are they like?"

Godot smiled at her genuinely before answering her question, "Well, for starters I'm the only boy, so they're all my sisters. The oldest after me is Maria. We were born in the same year, but we're not twins. I think there's some name for that, but I forget it."

"Irish twins?" Franziska suggested.

"I said no Catholic jokes!" he teased.

"I was being serious," she said.

"I know. I actually think you're right. Kind of a nasty term isn't it?"

"This from a man who calls me a Nazi on a regular basis."

Godot laughed out loud. "You've got me there, Kid. Anyway, Maria's a very motherly sort. She always did well at school, but all she ever wanted to be when she grew up was a mom. She's married and has a few kids of her own now.

"The twins are next. Dolores and Gloria were born two years after Maria. Gloria's very smart, she's a nurse, but she's taking classes so that she can become a doctor. Dolores, is kind of the opposite. She's very lazy. She's married now, and doesn't work. But unlike Maria, she doesn't do much when she stays at home. After them is Claudia. She's always been very sweet; she used to follow Maria around all the time. She's a kindergarten teacher now. She's married to this big gentle guy." He paused briefly, "I'm boring you aren't I?"

"No," Franziska said earnestly. "I'm curious. What's the last one like?"

"The baby of the family is Natalia, but we've always called her Nat. She's seven years younger than me. She wants to become a stage actress, but so far she's never had any really big roles," he frowned slightly, "She was only in college when I went into my coma."

"You've seen you're family since waking, then?" Franziska asked.

"I went to visit as soon as my trial was over. My mom's been calling me again, begging me to visit." He said with a chuckle.

"What's she like?" Franziska asked, with a little more interest than she meant to convey.

"She's hard to explain. She's bubbly, overbearing, well-meaning, but very often wrong. She's got the biggest heart though. My Dad's a pretty loving guy too, but other than that they're complete opposites. He's very quiet and serious. A hard worker whose not very good with emotion."

"What are their names?"

"Emanuel and Theresa. Why do you care so much?" he asked, smirking.

"I don't. I was just being polite," Franziska said refusing to look at him. He watched her carefully as she stared determinedly at the rug. She suddenly seemed very young and lonely. He smiled at her gently and made a carefully worded suggestion.

"You know, Filly. I really should go visit some day next week. But it would be a shame to lose the work time. I don't suppose you'd come down with me, so we can work on the train?"

Franziska blinked at him in surprise, before giving him a very small smile. "I think I could do that."

oOo

Feb 28, 2019

Godot hadn't actually expected to do any real work on the train. He had thought that his request to work en route, had been a _very_ obvious and thinly veiled excuse to let her visit an actual family. If Franziska knew that it was all a pathetic cover, she did not let on. Instead she met him at the train station with a large number of case reports and papers to read and discuss on the trip.

"What did you do, wake up early and raid the police station?" he asked as they sat down beside each other on the train.

"I had Scruffy deliver them to me this morning."

"So he had to wake up early and raid the police station?"

"I suppose." She shrugged, clearly uninterested in Gumshoe's general welfare.

"You are such a bitch," he told her fondly.

"You are a fool and a bastard so I consider us even," she said as she rifled through her papers. "There are a few new things today. Here; read this." She shoved a pile of papers at him.

"I can't. Reading while moving makes me sick," he told her this as though there was nothing that could be done about it. Franziska glared at him and he grinned. Smugly he took out his travel mug and took a sip, "I'm so sorry, Filly."

"Fine then," Franziska said, "I shall read to you."

Godot sighed heavily and settled in to listen to the report. Instead, he found himself watching her closely. She looked so very serious, sitting there bent over the paper. She frowned slightly as she was reading, and almost seemed to forget where she was as she became more absorbed in the information. Her hair slipped out from behind her ear and fell into her line of vision, but she made no movement to do anything about it.

Not entirely thinking, he reached out and tucked the lock of hair behind her ear again. Abruptly she looked up and stared at him.

"Sorry, Kid. It looked like it was bothering you," he said. She raised an eyebrow but went back to reading. He interrupted her, "What color is your hair exactly?"

"That's a strange question. I thought that mask let you see."

"Well it does, but all the colors are wrong. Everything's off. It's like…" he frowned as he tried to think of the best way to explain it. "Did you ever wear those 3-D glasses when you were a kid. You could close one eye and everything would be shaded over in blue, and if you closed the other everything would become red. This stupid mask makes everything look like I'm wandering around with the blue eye closed."

"I've never worn 3-D glasses," she told him, "But I think I understand what you're talking about."

"You've never worn 3-D glasses?" he repeated in disbelief. "That's so sad. What a sheltered life you've led."

"We should get back to work," she told him.

"Yeah, you're right. I need to stop being so lazy. Read on, Filly."

Franziska began and immediately stopped. "It's a light grayish-blue," she said, and continued reading.

oOo

"Oh Diego! It's my boy! My boy! My only son. Back to visit his mother! Come here Diego. Give your mother a hug!" Mrs. Armando appeared at the door of her house with a dish towel over one arm and her hair pulled back in a hopelessly messy bun. At the sight of her son she practically lit up, and began to wave him over to her excitedly. He went to her with a resigned look on his face.

She was a round woman, short and fat, but with an undeniably pleasant face. She was in her late fifties, and her hair had all but gone gray leaving only a few streaks of very dark hair. She was wearing a faded old dress, and was currently forcing her son to duck down so that she could kiss him on the cheek.

When Theresa Armando noticed that there was a young woman standing awkwardly in the tiny yard, she smiled at her, and looked up at her son.

"You didn't say anything about bringing someone. Who is this girl?"

"From work," Godot said shortly, "I'm going to make some coffee."

"Oh no you don't! You are going to introduce me to this fine young lady right this moment. Go on now, talk."

"Mother, this is Franziska von Karma. She is a Prosecutor in Los Angeles. We're working on our case together. I brought her with me so that we could get work done on the train," he said tiredly.

"So you're not dating her?" Theresa asked carefully.

"No Mom. I am not dating her."

"That's good. You're much too old for her." Mrs. Armando turned her eyes on the girl, "Welcome Dear! Welcome. Come in! Come in! I'll get you something to eat. _Ai, dios mio_! It's nearly lunch time and I haven't got anything ready."

She put one chubby arm around the girl as though they had known one another for many years, and began to lead her into the house.

Franziska von Karma was stunned. Never in her life had she been treated in this way. People did not call her 'Dear' and put their arms around her. They were too afraid of her, or too in awe of her prowess. But here she was being pushed into a house by a woman she had met only moments ago. She was ushered into a chair, had a cold drink thrust into her hands, and then was asked what sort of deli meat she liked. Franziska von Karma did not eat deli meats.

Yet she could not find the words with which to share this information. She was too busy trying to reorganize her thoughts and figure out the best way to act in this situation. It didn't seem to matter much to Theresa Armando whether or not Franziska said anything. She immediately set about preparing for lunch despite the silence.

"So Filly, how do you like my Mom?" Godot whispered sitting down across from her at the small kitchen table. He was smirking, and it was very clear that he found Franziska's discomfort highly amusing. Theresa appeared behind him, and smacked him across the head. "Ow!"

"Don't you go whispering like that behind my back. I thought I taught you not to behave like that. Now stop dragging the poor young lady into your mischief." Theresa placed a large platter of sandwiches on the table, and sat down to join them, "Now Dear, tell me about yourself."

"Well, Go- or well, Diego already told you the basics…" she said awkwardly, speaking for the first time since their arrival.

"Nonsense. Nonsense! All he spoke about was work. What is work? Nothing. You tell me the important things."

Franziska stared at her blankly. She had been under the impression that work was the important thing. It was at this point that Godot decided to take pity on her, and help her along.

"Franziska's from Germany," he said.

"_No me digas!_ From all the way over there? You know I came from Mexico when I was about your age. Not that far at all, and I was so homesick! But look at you half way across the world and perfectly fine. Your family must be with you."

"My brother is here. Although he came here many years before I did," Franziska told her, glad the conversation had taken a turn that she could understand.

"Just your brother? You must miss your father and mother terribly."

"Not really," Franziska said honestly. Across the table she could see that Godot was displeased with the conversation path. She wasn't entirely sure what the problem was.

"Not at all?" Theresa asked.

"Well, they're both dead so I couldn't see them in Germany anyway." At this pronouncement Theresa threw up her hands and Godot sighed heavily.

"Dead! Oh you poor baby. Poor innocent child! How lonely you must be!" It was only a moment before Franziska found the life being squeezed out of her by the zealously empathetic matriarch of the Armando family. "You can come here anytime, Dear, anytime."

"I'm really quite fine," Franziska assured her weakly. She was desperately uncomfortable being held.

Theresa Armando retreated to her seat. "How old are you, Dear?"

"Nearly twenty," Franziska answered.

"So young! So young and all alone! How do you take care of yourself?"

"She's a lawyer, Mom," Godot interrupted. "She doesn't act her age at all. She's very self sufficient."

Franziska flushed just slightly and looked at him in surprise; she had thought he looked down on her because of her age.

"If you say so," Theresa said quietly. "But if you ever need a family, Dear, there's one for you here."

The conversation grew more comfortable then and turned away from Franziska in general. Theresa spent a lot of time trying to get information out of her son and they then fell into talking about the different members of the family.

The afternoon was beginning to draw to a close, and Godot had made a number of failed attempts to end the conversation with his mother, when they were interrupted by the slamming of the front door.

"Yo, Grandma! You got any flour? Ma's run out," a boy's voice called from entryway. The mysterious trespasser soon tramped into the kitchen. He was a young teenager, caught in the especially awkward early years of adolescence. His hair was thick, messy and brown, and hung in thick curls around his face. He was dressed in oversized, brand name clothing, and he looked as though he might turn out handsome, although he certainly wasn't now.

He blushed when he saw Franziska. He then nodded in her direction and said, in a surly fashion, "'Sup."

"Stay right there José, you're tracking mud all over the house," his grandmother scolded. The boy remained where he was in the doorway.

"Hey Joey, How's it going?" Godot asked, he didn't sound especially interested.

"It's Joe, now," the boy said.

"But Grandma can still call you José?"

"Yeah, well. It's Grandma, you know?"

"José is what his mother named him. I'm only calling him by his name. I don't see the problem." Theresa came over with a bag of flour and handed it to the boy. "Now out with you, and stop staring at your Uncle's friend."

"Bye!" José called desperately over his shoulder as he was shoved out the door by his grandmother. She returned, shaking her head.

"That boy. Always with the ladies. He reminds me a lot of you when you were his age," she said gesturing to Godot. "Do you know he's had five different girlfriends already, and it's only been two years since he stopped finding girls disgusting. It's never nice Latina girls either, just like you isn't he?"

"Mom, I dated tons of every type of girl, you've just apparently erased the ones you approved of from your memory. And besides," he added, "Your being offensive."

"You never dated any of them seriously," she said.

"Then why are you worried about Joey. He's thirteen; he's not dating anyone seriously," Godot said testily.

"I suppose," she answered. A deeply uncomfortable silence hung over the room as Godot fumed at the table and his mother made herself busy around the kitchen. She came back to the table in the middle of lighting a scented candle and said quietly to your son.

"Whatever happened to the Asian one?" Godot had stood up and turned on his mother in a single motion.

"Don't you ever speak about her like that!" He shouted at her. Frightened, his mother stumbled backwards; the lit candle fell from her hands and, in a moment, the curtain behind her was alight. Godot and his mother stood in shock, staring at the flame.

Thinking quickly, Franziska grabbed her drink and tossed it at the burning cloth. The fire died down for a second, but began to rise up again. She then tore the curtain down from its rod, flung it into the sink, and turned on the faucet. A dark and foul smoke rose up from the sink causing everyone in the room to start coughing.

Godot grabbed both women by the wrists and pulled them out of the kitchen and into the yard. It was a minute or so before anyone said anything.

"I'm sorry, Mom. Are you alright," Godot asked, gently taking her by the arms and looking her over.

"I'm fine, Diego, really. It was just a bit of a scare," she told him. Turning to Franziska she said, "That was very quick thinking, Dear. We would have just kept staring at the flame like deer in the headlights until the whole house burnt down."

"I just did what needed doing," Franziska informed her matter-of-factly. Theresa smiled at her.

"I didn't mean to offend you, Deigo. I didn't mean to say anything wrong. I was only curious to know if you were still seeing anyone," she said gently.

"It's fine, Mom. I know you'd never purposely say anything offensive," Godot said quietly.

"So you're no seeing anyone then?" she asked urgently.

"Mom!" Godot said in exasperation.

"Calm down, Diego. I'm asking for a reason," she said patting him on the arm. "Just last week I was invited to visit the Ortiz family. You remember them, don't you? They used to live across the street before they moved to New Mexico. They had a daughter about your age."

"Mom," Godot muttered in annoyance, "This is about the girl isn't it."

"Of course it's about the girl. Her name is Blanca, she was in Maria's grade at school. She was always a sweet girl, and I was very good friends with her mother; we've kept in touch this entire time. I just think it would do you some good to get out of the office and meet some people. You've done nothing but work since you got better. You need to live a little."

"That's not true. I spent some of my time since getting better in a holding cell."

"Don't speak of it! You'll put me in an early grave. Just, please Diego, we're visiting this weekend. If you can get the time off work, join us." She took her son's hands and looked up at him pleadingly. He sighed and looked away, deep in thought.

"I think you should go, _Diego_," Franziska suggested wickedly, deciding that it was boring to remain on the sidelines. She attempted to smile at him sweetly, but the look came out somewhat sinister instead. Godot's mouth tightened into a frown, and she could only assume that behind his mask he was glaring at her.

"See? Your little friend agrees with me," Theresa went and stood by Franziska, so that the two women could have a united front. "We just want what's best for you."

"It doesn't bother me if I have to do a little extra work, _Diego_."

Exhaling heavily, Godot threw his hands up in surrender. "Fine! Fine, whatever. I'll do it. I'll go visit them with you this weekend. Is everyone happy now?"

The women nodded, one more earnestly than the other.

"So I'll see you this weekend, Diego?" Theresa went over to and hugged her son, "I'm so glad."

"Yeah, I'll see you Mom," Godot told her. She kissed him and went back into the house to open all the windows, leaving the two lawyers to make their way back to the train station. Godot turned from his parents' house and looked at Franziska.

"God I hate you."

She smiled.


	4. Chapter 3

March 4, 2019

As a general rule, Franziska disapproved of the sort of habits that arose out of boredom. Nail biting, finger drumming, and other such pointless habits were the sort of behaviors only found in people who didn't have enough drive to find something purposeful to do with themselves. It was for this reason that she was ashamed and embarrassed when Godot walked in on her staring blankly at the wall and curling her hair around her fingers, despite the fact that there was an open police report in front of her. She sat up straight when she noticed him and glared defensively.

"I thought you weren't coming in today."

"I'm not leaving until late this evening. I figured we should discuss the case a bit before then." He grinned slightly, "I noticed you were working hard before I came in here."

Franziska flushed, "You have no right to talk. _You_ didn't even come into the office this morning."

"I had an excuse," Godot said, he pulled up a chair beside her so that he could look at what she had laid out on her desk. She stared at him, waiting for him to explain further; he said nothing.

"What is this excuse?"

"Doctor's appointment," he mumbled. "Did they really find five more people involved in this ring since yesterday?"

"You used that excuse last week," Franziska accused, not willing to let him end the conversation.

"I have a lot of doctor's appointments," he snapped, looking up from the desk. She looked at him thoughtfully and shrugged.

"I suppose that would make sense." She joined him in looking at the folder, but added, "You do seem to be a bit of a medical disaster."

"Thanks, Kid. You're real subtle, you know that?" He frowned at her before sighing, " I suppose it's not all bad. It probably helped me get off in my trial. I'm sure the judge was pressured; no public official would ever want to explain to their constituents why they had to be pay for my medical bills." He sounded disgusted. The skin around Godot's mouth tightened, and his frown grew deeper. Franziska's eyes widened in realization.

"You think you should have been sentenced, don't you?"

He stared back at her for a moment, his expression unchanging, "Of course. I committed the murder; I should have served the time."

"Folly!" Franziska said shortly.

"How is it?" Godot asked, his voice portraying more incredulity than anger.

"It was an obvious case of justifiable defense. Personally I'm surprised it even went to trial." She was dismissive.

"I hated her," Godot growled, "I wanted her dead. I would've done it no matter what…"

"But you didn't do it 'no matter what'. You did it in the presence of an endangered young woman."

"But I would've-" Godot began, his voice low with a deep and self-directed fury.

"The court does not care what you would've done," Franziska said fiercely, sitting up straight and looking at him directly, "It does not care about your innermost feelings. It does not care if you hated the person you killed. The court cares about facts, nothing more and nothing less, and the facts show that you saved the life of a young woman."

Godot did not reply immediately. Instead he looked her over slowly; taking in the strength in her position, the defiance of her upturned chin, and most of all the utter self-assurance in everything she said, which shone out of her flashing eyes. There was no doubt in her mind that he deserved no punishment. He did not entirely agree with her, and yet there was still a relief in knowing that his freedom was not a sham to everyone around him. It truly meant something to have someone so deeply entwined with the law tell him that he was guiltless.

"Thanks Franziska," he said gently. "Thanks for meaning it."

The smile that graced Godot's face was, for once, less artificial than the mask that covered his eyes. It was a small smile, more gentle than his usual toothy grin, and something about the unexpected authenticity of his gratitude combined with the rare use of her real name made Franziska stare with wonder. Her heart fluttered slightly, and for the first time she found herself wanting to remove his mask, not as some immature prank, but instead in a desire to see the rest of his expression which was hidden underneath.

"We should really get back to work," she said quietly, suddenly averting her eyes.

"Alright, Filly," Godot said, his usual grin returning, "What have we got today?"

oOo

March 6,2019

She missed him, and it was odd, because she thought she no longer possessed the ability to miss anyone at all.

Franziska von Karma was five years old when she first felt truly alone. Her father had always been an absent figure; a man she respected but did not completely understand. Her mother had never been present either. Her father had divorced the woman unceremoniously shortly after Franziska's birth, and she had grown sick and died a year or so later without ever getting the chance to truly meet her child. Despite this there had been, for as long as Franziska could remember, one person who was there for her; the boy that her father had brought home from America to be her brother. Miles Edgeworth was her whole world for almost three years, and then her father had decided to take him back. He had decided to send him away for school.

The day that Miles had left, she watched him leave from the large open gate of the estate. She had been forbidden to leave the grounds, and had to watch the car get farther and farther away with the full knowledge that she could do nothing about it. She had cried that night, and locked the door of her room because she was ashamed to let the servants see her.

But Franziska von Karma refused to wallow in such foolish emotion. The next day she had decided to teach herself how not to feel lonely. Work and study had filled the void excellently, and so she sat herself down with one of her father's law books everytime she felt her brother's absence. The feelings came less and less often, until eventually they stopped coming at all. She had considered her experiment a success, and for the most part, she had not been bothered by pangs of loneliness for the next fifteen years.

Yet as the days passed, she found herself missing Godot's presence. It wasn't a powerful emotion, like the desperation she had felt for her brother back in her childhood, yet the feeling was still _there_. Her days were different without him. His smugness and his teasing had become a part of her afternoons, and without him she felt that something was wrong.

Working alone did not bring the same joy that it always had. It was not until he was gone, that she realized how much she valued his input and ideas. She sat at her desk drawing angry doodles in the used up days of the month on her desk planner. The case was getting bigger and bigger, and for the first time she did not feel sufficient by herself. Frustrated, she stood up, and left her office.

Franziska made her way to the break room, looking around to make sure no one was watching her. She opened one of the cabinets and pulled out a can that was simply labeled: _Blend # 25. Don't Touch_. She brewed a small amount and carried it back to her office.

She set it on her desk and attempted to return to work as the now familiar aroma filled the room.

oOo

March 8, 2019

"He should have returned by now," Franziska said angrily, walking into Miles Edgeworth's office and sitting heavily on his couch. "I'm not going to keep covering for the fool if he does not come back shortly."

Miles raised his eyes to look at her wearily. She was flicking her foot around in small, agitated circles, and staring at his bookcase as though she wished it would die.

"You know, Franziska, if you are so concerned about his whereabouts, there is nothing stopping you from picking up the phone and calling him."

"I suppose…" she said darkly. She stood up then and left without another word. Miles Edgeworth sighed and went back to his work.

oOo

Out on the sidewalk, Franziska began to dial the Godot's number. She frowned when she finished and brought the phone to her ear, almost as soon as she had done so, she heard music erupt from behind her.

"Ah, Ziska, I didn't know you missed me so much." Franziska turned in horror to see that Godot was exiting the Prosecutor's Building. "We must of taken different elevators. As soon as I got up there, Edgeworth told me you'd gone down stairs to call me."

"I didn't miss you," Franziska refuted belatedly, "I thought you were skipping out on work."

"Of course you did," Godot said coming closer to her. "Why don't we go back up so that you can make sure I focus." He gestured towards the door, and together they went back inside.

"You'd better be planning to work overtime," Franziska scolded.

"I can't."

"Why not?" she demanded.

"Blanca, that girl my mother's trying to set me up with, she's in town," Godot explained.

"She came back with you?" Franziska asked in surprise.

"Not quite. She has a new job in the city, so we came up on the train together. She's never lived in the city before and I promised I'd see her after work."

Franziska glared at him, and didn't talk until they got back to her office. Eventually, Godot felt compelled to break the silence.

"Listen, I'm sorry about not staying late." He bit his lip in indecision for a moment before continuing. He spoke slowly, as though he still wasn't sure that he wanted to say what was coming out of his mouth, "Why, don't you come by my pad this evening, and we can talk then?"

She looked at him distrustfully, but nodded.

"Perfect. Come around nine, if that's good for you. Do you remember where my place is, _Angel_?" He grinned at her.

"I remember just fine, thank you," she told him. She took some papers out of her desk and looked at him purposefully before putting them down. "I think Winston Payne has been drinking your coffee," she said.

oOo

Franziska stood outside of Godot's building, looking over the list of residents and their apartment numbers. It took her a moment to find the person she was looking for; Godot wasn't listed, but 'Mr. D. Armando' was. She made her way up to his floor, somewhat nervous but refusing to show it. She couldn't recall having ever gone to visit anyone like this. It had always been home or work; any type of social life had been non-existent. But, she quickly reminded herself, that this was work, and she knocked determinedly on his door.

The door was opened by Godot, and Franziska was surprised to hear other voices coming from behind him.

"Hey Filly."

"Who's with you?" Franziska asked quickly, glancing around him and into the house.

"It's Blanca, she came over with some friends." He put a hand on her shoulder, and Franziska jumped slightly, "I'm really sorry about this. I thought they'd just be here for dinner, but they haven't left yet."

"I'll just go," she told him, taking a step backward in an attempt to get out of the apartment.

"You don't have to go if you don't want to. They've got to leave eventually; we can talk then." Godot grinned at her, "A little socializing would probably do you some good."

She blushed angrily. "Fine, I'll come in, but only so that we can work later." Godot turned around, beckoning for her to follow. She did so, staying very close behind him in her discomfort.

His apartment was rather small and sparse, but the things that he did have were nice enough. He had always struck her as the sort of person who valued classy possessions, and it surprised her to see his apartment so empty. It occurred to her that he might not have been able to afford very much, considering the probable cost of his medical bills.

Godot led her into the main room of his apartment where there were four people lounging about on two couches. Two men and a woman sat on one of the couches. The woman sat with her legs across the lap of one of the men besides her. Her hair was an unnatural shade of blond, and she was running her fingers through the curly hair of the man she was snuggling with. He was a tall man with dark hair and blue eyes. He seemed to be just as interested in the girl on his lap as she was with him.

The other man on the couch did not seem quite so happy. He had straight red hair and harsh grey eyes. He sat with his feet planted firmly on the ground; his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He was talking seriously with another woman, who was sitting alone on the other couch.

She was sitting elegantly with her back against the arm of the couch, and her legs stretched out across the cushions in front of her. Her hair was such a dark shade of brown, that it almost appeared to be black. She had a beautiful dark tan complexion, and her eyes were sharp and green. She was laughing at what ever the serious man was saying, but she seemed more interested in looking at Godot now that he had returned.

All four of the visitors looked to be much older than Franziska, and it made her feel suddenly babyish.

"Oh Diego! Who's this girl?" the green eyes woman asked, smiling in a way that made Franziska distrust her.

Godot stepped further into the room so that Franziska could stand along side him, "This is Franziska," he said, "She's a friend from work."

"Just a friend?" asked the red haired man.

"Of course," laughed the green eyed woman, "He's not a cradle robber."

"Anyway," Godot said, ignoring them, "Franziska this guy is Evan" he gestured to the red haired man, "The two love birds are Roman and Julia. And this," he told her, gesturing to the lone woman on the other couch, "is Blanca."

"Pleasure to meet you," Franziska said, although she didn't really mean it.

"You're so cute!" Julia cooed, finally looking away from her lover. "How old are you anyway, Honey?"

"Nineteen," Franziska responded through her teeth. It was against her natural instincts to stand being talked to in such a way.

"You really are young," Roman said in surprise, "Are you an intern? Because Diego, you really shouldn't be inviting interns over to your house."

"She's not an intern," Godot said tiredly. He sat down besides Blanca, who had now placed her feet on the floor. Franziska followed him, sitting down on his other side.

"I'm a prosecutor," she told the group. They all made noises to show that they were impressed.

"Already?" Blanca asked, but she laughed loudly before receiving any sort of answer. "I can't imagine going to work at your age, I really can't. If I didn't have to work now than I really wouldn't."

"There's a good ethic," Godot said sarcastically. Blanca giggled in response.

"I guess my work isn't so bad," Blanca admitted. "It's a secretary job, but there's this fat old lady who does most of the actual work; I'm really just the eye candy." She laughed again.

"How long have you been a lawyer," Evan asked. He didn't sound particularly interested.

"For six years," Franziska answered.

"No way!" Julia squealed, "Since, like, middle school? I couldn't even get my homework done when I was twelve!"

"Did you need the money or something?" Roman asked.

"Not remotely," Franziska said. "I became a lawyer because I wanted to."

"You know I've always liked the sort of man who lives for his work," Blanca announced. Her eyes narrowed and she looked at Franziska, "But I find it a tiresome habit in a woman."

The silence that followed hung over the group awkwardly as Franziska and Blanca glared daggers at one another.

"You know, I hate to break up the party but I have work tomorrow morning and there are some files that Franziska and I really need to discuss," Godot announced standing up.

The silence continued for a moment before Julia let out a loud false laugh and stood up, taking her boyfriend with her. Franziska remained seated as the rest of the group all said fake cheery goodbyes. Blanca was the last to go and she took her time leaving. She smiled a great deal and stood too close to Godot. With a girlish laugh she kissed him on the cheek and left, throwing Franziska a final dirty look.

Godot let gravity set him back onto the couch. "God," he sighed, " I just have no desire to get together with people that don't matter to me anymore."

"Did you ever?" Franziska asked.

"Of course. I used to love meeting people, going to parties, that sort of thing. Now I just don't give a shit."

"That's a sign that you're maturing," Franziska said seriously. He looked at her and chuckled softly.

"It's kind of ridiculous to hear that from someone your age."

"I've always been very mature," she insisted. He chuckled again, and they sat in a companionable silence. "How old are you anyway?"

He looked thoughtful for a moment, as though he were trying to remember something, "It's 2019, right?" She nodded and he went back to thinking. "I guess I'll be turning thirty-four this year."

Franziska's jaw dropped before she could get a handle on herself. Godot let out a deep and honest laugh.

"You think I'm ancient, don't you?" he asked her.

"No," she said slowly, "Of course not."

"Yes, you do. Admit it." He leaned closer to her.

"Well," she said smirking, "You're still younger than you look."

"That was low, Ziska. You shouldn't say things like that," he scolded, however he didn't look particularly offended. The comfortable silence returned and they sat beside one another each in their own thoughts.

Godot glanced at Franziska out of the corner of his eye, enjoying the fact that she couldn't see that he was doing it. He sighed and turned fully towards her.

"What did you think of Mia, that day that you met her?"

Franziska was surprised, "She seemed like a very nice sort of person, and competent too. I could have respected her." This was the highest praise in Franziska's book.

"She told me to move on," he said, more to himself than to Franziska. "It's easier said than done."

"Just because it isn't easy doesn't mean it's not worth doing," Franziska said logically.

"Do you think she meant for me to start seeing other women?" he asked, his voice little more than a whisper.

"Obviously."

"Obviously?" he asked.

"She probably wants you to live a full and happy life. Conventionally speaking that involves a spouse and children. You're old so you can't exactly wait long before finding someone." They stared at one another for a moment. Suddenly Godot laughed and shook his head.

"Why the hell am I talking to you about this?"

"Because I'm perfectly perfect, and you knew that I'd give excellent advice," she smiled at him. Godot stood up and ruffled her hair; she frowned.

"You came here to work, right? I'm going to make some coffee, do you want some?" Franziska shook her head, and set about fixing her hair. She watched his back as he left the room, and she found herself wishing that he'd hurry back.

oOo

March 10, 2019

"I'd be willing to go, but my case is going to court soon," Miles Edgeworth told Franziska seriously. She was sitting across from him in his office with her head bent over a thick letter.

"I can't believe he kept all this in such bad shape," she said, biting her lip in frustration.

"It's likely that he let this sort of business fall by the wayside when… things were ending." Franziska looked up at Miles and raised an eyebrow before returning her attention to the letter, "It could have been much worse. The debts may be unpaid, but it seems that there's plenty of money to pay them with. You'll still get plenty in inheritance."

"If we can find where he put it. It sounds like his investments were all over the place. It might well take years to straighten this all out," she set the letter down on Miles' desk and leaned back in her chair with a sigh.

"We could contact your sister and see if there's anything she could do about it."

"She's useless with money. Besides Father got into a disagreement with her husband years ago; they're probably not inheriting anything anyway, so why should she care?"

The two siblings sat in silence; both staring at the letter and privately cursing it for coming into their lives at a moment when it seemed that everything was going so well. There was a sudden knock on the door and both siblings answered simultaneously, "Come in."

Godot opened the door quickly, a surprisingly relieved expression on his face. He looked at Franziska with a small and difficult to read smile, "I couldn't find you."

"Sorry," Franziska said, "We're having family issues."

"What happened?" Godot asked. He had been under the impression that her only remaining family was in the room with her.

"Manfred von Karma has left his fortune in a deplorable state. It seems that one or both of us is going to have to return to Germany to sort things out," Miles said.

Godot remained quiet, taking a sip from his mug and looking the two siblings over thoughtfully, "Have you decided who's going yet?"

Miles glanced at Franziska who frowned and turned to Godot, "It's going to have to be me, at least at first."

"What about our case?" Godot asked. His tone of voice wasn't angry so much as concerned.

"I thought you wanted to work on your own?" Franziska replied testily.

"But Ziska, that was before we tried it." He grinned, "You're not nearly so obnoxious as you look."

"Fool," Franziska muttered, but she smiled a little despite herself. Miles glanced back and forth between the two of them, confused by the pleasant overtones to their insulting conversation. He decided against commenting on it.

"The case that I've currently been assigned should be going to court in a few days at the most. I'll be able to fly to Germany after that. Franziska will be able to return to the U.S. before your case is even assigned a court date."

Godot nodded pensively, his mug stopped at his lips, "I suppose that'll have to do. You'll be leaving soon, I guess?"

"I should be leaving now," Franziska told him, standing up. She turned to her brother and said goodbye before heading out of his office. She was followed by a set of heavy footsteps. She turned to find that Godot was behind her.

"What?" she asked bluntly.

"Do you need someone to help you get to the airport?"

"I have a chauffeur," she reminded him.

"Right," he said. Realizing he had nothing more to say, Franziska turned to leave. "Don't I even get a goodbye?" Godot's trademark grin had returned and so had the teasing tone of his voice.

"I suppose," she said, leaning her head to the side thoughtfully. She looked up at him seriously, held out a hand, and plainly said, "Goodbye Diego."

Behind his mask, Godot's eyes widened before his entire expression softened. He put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her into a gentle, fleeting hug. "Goodbye Kid." He whispered.

"Well then!" Franziska said looking flustered when he had let her go. "I'll be going now." She stared at him for a moment more before turning tail and hurrying away.

oOo

March 11, 2019

Franziska had fallen asleep almost as soon as she arrived home, and her sense of time didn't really return until the following morning. She had then proceeded to spend the day in her father's study going through ancient bills and making phone calls to some of his old business associates. It was a tiring and boring process and it took up most of her time. She saw the servants only briefly when one maid or another would come to the office to bring her something to eat.

She found herself wondering what they did when no one was home, particularly considering that this was the general case. There couldn't be much to do, aside from keeping a layer of dust from settling over the house. She wondered if they even always bothered to show up.

March 12, 2019

On her second day on the estate, Franziska came to the conclusion that the servants were avoiding her on purpose. She knew that there were a fair amount of them in the house, and yet it seemed that wherever she went the rooms and hallways would be deserted. Angry she began to concoct some useless and meaningless job to inflict on the first servant she came across. When her work grew all together too frustrating and boring, she made her way to the kitchen, certain that there would be someone there for her to punish.

Franziska heard the head cook before she had even opened the door. She was in the process of scolding someone rather loudly. Curious, Franziska pushed the door open slowly so that she could remain unnoticed and observe what was going on in the kitchen.

The head cook was a plump woman who wore her hair pulled back in a tight bun. She was covered in flour, a matched set with the counter in front of her. Besides her was a fluffy haired boy whose locks were the same almost transparent shade of blonde as the woman's. His cheeks were puffed out and he was glaring at the floor defiantly.

"If you can't prove to me that you can behave yourself when I bring you to work with me, how am I supposed to trust you home alone with your sisters?" the mother was asking sternly, as she took her aggravation out on the bread dough in front of her.

"I only took some cheese…" The boy argued half-heartedly.

"After I distinctly told you that the food didn't belong to me, and you shouldn't be touching it."

"I was hungry."

"Well, you've got to learn to control yourself then, don't you?" the boy nodded in defeat.

"Give me another chance, please. If I watch the little girls than you won't have to worry about hiring someone to baby-sit them. It would save a lot of money!"

"You know, most boys would be demanding money to watch their sisters everyday."

"I like being the man of the house," the boy said a little smugly. His mother laughed before running her floury hands fondly through his hair.

"I suppose I'll give you that second chance then, Sweetie." The boy grinned widely at his mother, but his expression changed when he noticed Franziska in the doorway. He shrunk back slightly, as though he wanted to fit between his mother and the counter.

"Ah Miss," the cook said in surprise, "Were you wanting something?"

The cruel job that Franziska had prepared left her mind entirely. She had always looked down on the servants, and assumed that they were lesser people than herself. Yet, this scene between mother and son seemed so suddenly familiar, that they transformed from mere servants to people in front of her eyes.

She was taken aback, but they were still staring at her and she had to say something, "I was wondering if we kept any coffee in the house," she asked quietly.

March 14, 2019

"You know Child, people usually drink coffee when they ask for it," the head cook said, as she entered the office baring another mug. For the past two days she had taken it on herself to bring Franziska coffee every few hours. She had been so cowed by the quiet request from the woman she had known only as an imperious child, that she was now curious to know her slightly better.

So far all she had learned was that Franziska didn't drink her coffee when she asked for it.

"I like the way it smells," Franziska told the cook simply as she looked back and forth between two pieces of paper. "I think these are the same thing."

"Have you considered buying a scented candle," the cook asked, placing the hot mug on the desk where it would inevitably go cold.

"I don't have time to go get one," Franziska informed her.

"I could send my son out. He's desperate for something to do," the cook suggested.

"Thank you," Fraziska said looking at her. The cook smiled and left.

March 16, 2019

Franziska sat at her father's desk glaring at her cell phone. She had expected Miles Edgeworth to call at least two days ago to tell her that his case was over and that they could switch places. But he still hadn't called, and she was still stuck in Germany doing boring paper work all by herself.

It seemed nonsensical that she should so dislike working on her own, when she had spent so many years doing just that. But now it seemed so unfulfilling. Her eyes moved from the phone to the coffee scented candle that she had placed beside it. The smell wasn't exactly right, but then again the real coffee hadn't been quite right either.

As much as she tried to deny it, Franziska knew exactly why she wanted to get back to Las Angeles. She missed Godot, or rather as she mentally corrected herself, she missed Diego. It was more than simply being used to his presence either. There was a fondness now, a desire for his sarcasm, his foolish grin, and those rare moments when he became wonderfully and completely genuine. Franziska sighed wistfully, before getting a grip on herself, placing her head on the desk and groaning in frustration.

"I brought you some lunch, Miss," the cook called from the hallway.

"Come in," Franziska said, not lifting her head from the desk.

"Is something wrong, Dearie?" the older woman asked as she placed a plate besides Franziska.

"No," the girl answered sitting up and glaring at the wall, "Everything is perfect."

"Nonsense," the cook said, "I heard you sighing and groaning from the hallway. Something's going on."

"You are not paid to offer advice," Franziska said, turning her frown on the cook. The woman stayed watching her seriously. Suddenly she broke into a grin.

"You're in love with someone aren't you?" she squealed in delight.

"What? No!" Franziska told her loudly. "Go away; I'm done with you."

"Oh, I'm so happy for you, Dearie," the woman gave her boss an unwanted hug and hurried out the door. Franziska let her head fall back onto the desk, deciding that the cook was foolish. She remained there for a moment and then her phone rang. She shot up abruptly and grabbed it with just as much speed. She was glad no one was there to see her.


	5. Chapter 4

March 17, 2019

Franziska stood at the baggage claim watching the conveyer belt going around, her keen eyes waiting for something familiar to appear. She hated to fly commercial, but the von Karma's only owned one jet, and it had been busy bringing Miles Edgeworth to Germany. She hadn't wanted to wait for him to arrive so that she could leave, and first class wasn't that bad.

Finally she caught sight of her own bag making its way slowly towards her from the other side of the belt. When at last it arrived in front of her she reached out, but an arm appeared from behind her and took it instead. Surprised she turned and found herself looking up at the glowing red mask of Diego Armando. She was at a loss for words, a situation that was becoming altogether too common.

"Miss me?" he asked grinning.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"Don't change the subject, Ziska. Did you miss me?"

"Not as much as you missed me if you've been hanging around in the airport."

"So you did miss me?" Diego inferred.

"How long were you waiting here?" she demanded in exasperation.

"Edgeworth told me which plane you'd be arriving on before he left. It's not like I've been here all day." They stared at one another moment, "You haven't answered me yet."

"Give me my bag," Franziska ordered. He held it up higher so that she couldn't reach it, "I got you a present," she explained, and he quickly handed it over.

Placing the bag on a seat, Franziska began to root through it. Eventually she pulled out a small glass jar. She handed it to him and he looked at her in confusion.

"It's a used candle," he told her.

"It smells like coffee," she responded zipping her bag and throwing it over her shoulder.

"It doesn't smell like very good coffee," he said sniffing it, "and besides who was using it?"

"Why do you care?" she asked frowning at him. "I'm going to call my chauffeur, would you like a ride?"

He nodded without looking away from the little candle, continuing his close study while she made her call. When she hung up, Diego grinned at her. He held the candle up between them, "You did miss me."

Franziska's cheeks tinged pink and she peered up at him. "Maybe a little," she admitted.

Diego looked pleased, "I missed you too." They stared at one another for a moment, before Franziska realized how foolish they must look.

"What were you doing while I was gone?" she asked him, leading the way out.

"Working on our case," Diego responded. "Do you want me to take your bag?"

"It's not even heavy," she said, turning and raising an eyebrow. "Besides, I meant, outside of work."

They stood outside and waited for the limo to arrive. Diego looked her over carefully. "You're curious about my social life?"

"I was just being polite. You don't have to answer if you don't want to. Personally, I don't care." The limousine arrived, and Franziska entered, not looking back as Diego followed her.

"You don't have to get so mad," he said gently. She frowned at him, and settled herself down. Diego looked at her, clearly deep in thought. He smiled suddenly and said, "I've started seeing someone."

Franziska's eyes widened, but she quickly tried to look disinterested. "That Blanca woman from before?"

Diego's grin got wider, "Yes. My mother's practically married us off already."

"She's very pretty," Franziska said quietly. Diego looked surprised by this response. He leaned closer to her.

"You think so?" he asked.

"Yes," Franziska insisted, "She was very… womanly."

Diego put his hand behind her head and ruffled her hair awkwardly, "You're just saying that because you're tired."

"No," she insisted, "My congratulations are earnest. I think it's good that you're moving on."

Diego sighed and leaned back in his seat, "Thanks, Kid."

oOo

March 20, 2019

As a von Karma, Franziska had always felt that work was the most important thing one could do. Since beginning her career, she had found herself happiest when in the court or the office, and going home at the end of the day had always been an unwelcome prospect.

When in the United States, Franziska's home was an extensive and expensive flat. Her father had lived in it when he was still alive, and the décor was as impressive and cold as he had been. The apartment had no live-in servants, and whenever she was home it was completely empty. She spent most of her time in the study, working as she would in the Prosecutor's Office, and more often then not she spent her nights slumbering at her desk.

In the days after returning from Germany, Franziska began to dread the end of the workday more than ever before. Her job had become enjoyable in a completely new way that she'd never felt before. She liked going to the office, simply because she enjoyed being with Diego.

She was, of course, interested in her work, but they could have been doing anything and she still would have been content. Everything about Diego made her happy simply to be in his presence. The way he smiled, the way he laughed, even the way he teased her; all of it brought her joy. But it made the end of the day all the more painful. The idea of returning to her empty apartment while he went out with his horrible new girlfriend was practically painful. Worst of all she felt that she was being illogical, which made her feel a thousand times worse.

She was currently sitting in the large, comfortable, swivel chair at Diego's desk, watching as he made himself some coffee in the pot that he kept in his office.

"Do you want some?" he asked, as he had for the past two days.

"I don't like it," she responded, as she had for the past two days.

"But you like the way it smells?" He took a sip from his coffee mug and smiled at her.

"I like the way flowers smell, but that doesn't mean I'd want to ingest them." She gestured for him to sit down across from her.

"You do know that's my desk you've taken over, right?"

"I know," she told him, smirking. Diego placed his coffee in front of her, before pulling the chair from the front of the desk around to the back so that he could sit beside her.

"Now, we really should get to work, Ziska. These bastards won't incriminate themselves."

"They've done a pretty job incriminating each other," Franziska said leaning back in her seat. "When do you think they'll actually give us a court date?"

"Desperate to get rid of me, eh?"

"No," she responded quickly, before shaking her head and adding, "I mean, I don't particularly care either way. But, really, we have more than enough information to send these two men to jail five times over. Why haven't they put us in court yet?"

"I think they keep pushing it back every time they find something new. And they keep finding new stuff." He sipped and shrugged, "Gives us a bit of a break."

Franziska harrumphed and rested her arms on the table. "I wish they'd give us something to do. All we've been doing is reading reports. I want to _do_ something."

"Hey, maybe we can take off early," Diego said with a shrug.

"No!" Franziska responded quickly. She blushed and added, "It's a dishonest use of taxpayer money to leave in the middle of the afternoon like that."

"It's not like we're doing much here," he said. "Let's compromise. How about we take lunch out, and not talk business at all."

"I suppose we could do that…" she said quietly.

oOo

"You know, as an underage government worker you probably shouldn't be ordering alcohol."

Franziska shrugged and took a sip, "I can drink back home in Germany. You should have ordered some."

"I've been banned from alcohol; Doctor's orders," Diego said nonchalantly.

"And the caffeine?" Franziska asked, leaning forward with smirk and a raised eyebrow.

Diego grinned, "There are certain things a man can't live without. There is nothing that coffee can do to my body that would be worse than what its absence would do to my soul."

"Poetic," Franziska said smiling, and they fell into a comfortable silence as their meals arrived.

"So Ziska?" Diego asked, as the quiet began to last too long, "Is their anyone waiting for you back in Germany?"

"You mean like Miles Edgeworth?" she asked, confused.

"I mean, do you have a little boyfriend back home?"

"Oh god no." She shook her head.

"I don't suppose you've ever gotten much of a chance to meet guys your own age?" Godot asked, looking at her carefully as he waited for an answer.

"I suppose not, but most boys my age are exceedingly immature. As a whole I find them distasteful," she answered simply. Diego let out a loud deep laugh that sent a thrill of happiness through Franziska.

He bit his lip and looked at her for a moment, as though there were something he wanted to ask. Whatever it was he decided against it. Instead he settled on, "So you've never dated anyone, then?"

"If I had met someone, I think my Father would have killed him."

"Literally," Diego added without thinking. He was certain, for a moment, that he had offended her, but Franziska laughed. It was a clear and pleasant sound, not what he would have expected from her, and it put a smile on his face.

"We should probably get back to work soon," Franziska said quietly, blushing when she saw his expression.

"I guess," Diego answered. " We should get back to the office before it's time to leave for dinner."

"You have plans?" Franziska asked carefully, as she waved the waiter over.

"Of course."

"With Blanca?"

"Of course," he repeated. "Why do you ask?"

Franziska looked down at the table, training her face into a look of practiced disinterest, "No reason," she said.

oOo

March 23, 2019

It had been another day of reading new information that sounded exactly like what they had been reading the day before. Outside the window of Diego's office the light was beginning to disappear. Franziska was reading over a report without really absorbing any more information. She was, however, still more focused than her coworker. He had taken to mixing different blends of coffee together in an attempt to create something new. In the middle of pouring one mug into the other he slopped some onto his desk and frowned.

"Okay, we've been here too long," he announced. Franziska looked up, and sighed. She closed the report and began to pack it into her bag.

"I want a court date," she growled, "I'm sick of reading this."

"Why are you taking it home with you then?" Diego asked. "There's no reason for you to be working on this after hours."

"I haven't got anything better to do." Franziska frowned.

"You could sleep," Diego suggested, "You seem kind of exhausted."

"I'm not exhausted."

"Is something else bothering you? You're kind of… on edge."

"I'm fine," she told him shortly, "This is how I usually act."

"You've seemed pretty cheery lately, well, for you anyway. Something's got to be bothering you." He reached out gently and pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. She looked up at him, tired but happy, and smiled slightly.

"It's nothing, really," she said gently.

"You need to get out more, Ziska. If it's not exhaustion than maybe you should go out tonight. You need a break." He stretched as he joined her in preparing to leave.

"I suppose _your_ going out with Miss Blanca, again." The words came out colder than she meant them to, and she hoped he wouldn't notice. He did.

"Does it bother you?" he asked quietly. She stared in the other direction for a moment, thinking hard about how to respond. She desperately wanted to remain in control of herself, but suddenly she felt an unreasonable anger bubbling that she simply could not repress.

"She's a Bitch," Franziska seethed. "I should know. But she doesn't even have the guts or the honesty to act like one outright. She pretended to be so sweet and grownup but she was just lazy and nasty and-"

Franziska stopped abruptly; Diego was smiling. "You are a remarkably hard nut to crack." She raised an eyebrow, realizing, suddenly, that something wasn't what she had expected. Diego came very close to her, his smile growing gentler, "Why does it bother you so much, Ziska?"

Her eyes widened as she began to realize precisely what he was trying to ask her. Desiring to do anything but answer the question he had posed, Franziska changed the subject, "You haven't been seeing her at all, have you?"

Diego laughed warmly, and shook his head, "I can't get anything by you, can I?" He put a hand on her arm, and asked in a voice that held just the slightest tinge of anxiety, "Will you answer the question?"

"I think," Franziska began carefully, paying more attention to his sleeve than anything else, "I think perhaps I may have developed some sort of feelings for you."

She raised her eyes slowly, very slowly, and saw that the smile on his lips was of the small, gentle, and honest kind that appeared so very rarely. There was a moment in which she wondered what expression lay hidden behind the mask, but she found herself pulled, suddenly, into his arms.

It was warm in his embrace, and she felt she could have remained happily there forever. Yet Diego pulled back, causing her to look up immediately to see what had gone wrong. She saw nothing, but rather felt his lips on hers.

It was a short kiss; at once chaste and passionate. He let her go, still smiling gently and placed his hand tenderly against one of her cheeks. Franziska leaned into his touch, looking him over with the slightest of smiles on her face. They were quiet for a moment; Franziska happy, if somewhat stunned and Diego waiting patiently for a sort of response.

"What are you thinking?" he whispered softly.

"Why did you stop?" Diego's expression changed, briefly, into one of amused incredulity, before Franziska reached up and pulled him into another kiss.

oOo

April 1, 2019

Franziska hadn't known how much had been missing in her life until she had it. She had thought she'd had everything, and now suddenly she had so much more. The entire world suddenly seemed joyous and bright in ways she'd never imagined it could.

The case remained stuck, continuing to expand without progressing, but she found it difficult to truly care. She liked wasting the afternoons just talking with Diego, particularly now that she knew that when they said goodbye for the night she was still in his thoughts.

They sat together now, he in his desk chair and her on his knee, looking at some new and pointless paper.

"You've got to love a beaurocracy that won't let you condemn a guy because they think they can help you condemn him even better," Diego said pulling her closer to him. Franziska hummed in agreement. He turned his head so that he could see her face, "Do you want to go out somewhere for lunch?"

"Certainly," she responded, "That sounds nice."

Together they walked to a nearby restaurant where they sat in a booth by the window with the sun shining on them. Their conversation was pleasantly varied, and they talked of everything from family, to food, to Phoenix Wright. The quiet, lonely meals of Franziska's childhood were almost impossible to remember when she was sitting across from Diego. Dialogue and laughter floated so easily between them, and those few moments of silence that come to every conversation were always comfortable. This sort of friendship was very new and welcome, and Franziska could not imagine anything better.

"We should probably get back soon," Diego sighed, sounding disappointed in the prospect.

"Why so hurried?" she asked.

"Because we wouldn't want to steal from the taxpayers, Ziska," he said, smiling wickedly at her. She kicked him under the table.

"Be honest," she demanded.

"Honestly? I have a doctor's appointment this afternoon, and I want to walk you back to the office first."

Franziska raised an eyebrow, "I can handle walking just fine."

"I know," he answered quickly, "It may come as a surprise to you, but I actually _like_ walking with you."

"If it means so much to you," she said, smirking. The waiter arrived with the bill, and placed it on the table.

"I'll cover it," Diego told her, reaching into his pocket for his wallet.

"You don't have to," Franziska said frowning, "Unless, of course, you like doing this as well."

"I do," he told her, leaning over and kissing her. "Now come on, let's go."

oOo

April 13, 2019

"You're so cute when you laugh like that," Diego murmured as he kissed her, there was a pleasant sort of amusement in his voice.

"I am not," Franziska said, nuzzling his cheek; she was sitting on his knee again. She stopped, suddenly, for a moment and leaned against him, "I think I just disgusted myself."

He laughed and put his arms around her waist. Giggling, she leaned down and kissed him. This was how Gumshoe found them when he opened the door to deliver a report.

"Sorry Sirs!" he shouted nervously, giving an awkward salute with the hand holding the folder; papers flew out behind him and he dropped to his knees to pick them up.

"You know she's a woman, right?" Diego asked, as he watched the detective clamber about on the floor.

"I know," Gumshoe said looking up, "Why ya asking, pal?"

"No reason," he replied, trying to reach his coffee from around Franziska. He failed, and she handed it to him.

"So what have you brought us, Detective?"

"We've got some interesting new stuff. You see some of the guys at headquarters have got some leads saying the whole thing is probably connected to this big old gang that we've been tracking for a couple years now. They've even got this one guy who's agreed to rat out the guys who were involved in the ring. Their gonna be meeting him at this sketchy diner, like in a movie or somethin'. They said you guys could join 'em if you want, Pal." The detective said excitedly, standing up and placing his collected papers on the desk.

"Excellent!" Fanziska sat up alertly, "When is this meeting?"

"Two 'o' clock tomorrow. The detective that's going will take you in his cruiser if ya' show up at the station a half hour before that," Gumshoe told her. She nodded and waved him away before settling back against Diego's chest.

"Finally. Something interesting."

"Yeah," he repeated softly, "Interesting."

oOo

April 14, 2019

Franziska was climbing the steps of the Police Station, convinced that Diego was right behind her, when she heard his voice from a little too far away.

"Franziska, we need to talk." He was still standing at the bottom of the stairs, his eyes fixed on the sidewalk. She returned to him slowly, watching him closely until she stood directly in front of him.

"What's wrong?"

He bit his lip slightly before talking, as though he knew how she would respond and didn't want to experience it. "I don't think you should come today," he told her quietly.

"This had better be some foolish joke," she responded, her voice equally hushed.

"You know I wouldn't joke about something like this. I'm being serious. I think it would be better if you didn't come today."

"Why?" she snapped, her voice growing loud, "Do you doubt my competence?"

"No, Ziska, of course not, but it's dangerous," he said, trying to remain gentle.

She stared at him incredulously, "What do I care if it's dangerous?"

"I don't want you to get hurt." He told her, his voice becoming fiercer and more passionate, "I'm not going to let you get hurt!"

She said nothing but eyed him dangerously, warning him to choose his next words carefully. He came closer to her, grasping her by the shoulders, "It's just this one thing."

"It is not! You've been doing this more and more since we got together. You won't let me do anything for myself."

"Shh, Ziska, I'm just looking out for you."

"I don't need you to protect me from every little thing," she spat.

"I'm not going to lose another woman, because I'm too damn careless to protect her!" He pulled her tightly to his chest, and she could feel in every small movement of his body, his utter desperation and misery. It frightened her to know just how great his unhappiness was, and she felt as though she had pushed him too fast. But more than anything, she knew, suddenly, that if things were to go on as they were it would only hurt both of them.

Franziska yanked herself out of his embrace and looked at him fiercely. Her voice was dangerously low as she said her next words, "Take the case."

"What?" His voice was painful to hear. He sounded so lonely and horrified.

"You can take the case," Franziska told him, her voice less harsh, but remaining just as determined. "I'm going back to Germany."

"I don't want the case, Ziska. I want you." He tried to smile, that old trusted, fake and toothy grin, but he couldn't do it. The edges of his mouth trembled and gave him away.

"I can't do this," she told him. "I can't because you can't. You're not ready. You're still living with the same fear and guilt that's tortured you since you woke up."

"I know, Ziska but- I love you. You know that, don't you? Those memories don't stop me from loving you."

"It's not the feelings that I question," she shouted, her voice uneven, "It's the way that you show them. Have you learned nothing from your failed attempts to make up for a sin that you never committed? You're still too proud, Diego. Too proud and too domineering. You're scared, I know you are, but if you can't gain some acceptance of the fact that there are some things you can never control, than I'm sorry, but I cannot be with you."

Her eyes fell on his face, staring at the mask where his unseeing eyes should have been. "I'm sorry, Diego. I sincerely hope that you won't let your fear destroy you, but you can't get past this with me here. I hope to see you again some day."


	6. Chapter 5

April 20, 2019

On her first day back in Germany, Franziska had immediately gone to her original place of employment and demanded her old job back. She had an immense desire to return to some sense of normalcy, and work was the easiest way she could see in which to do it. Five days after returning to the country she was already preparing to enter the court again; it really had been too long.

Yet, 'normal' for Franziska had changed. Being home was not like it had always been. It was not quite so lonely as it had once been; the big empty mansion she had grown up in was beginning to feel much more populated, and she couldn't quite explain it.

"You're much more gracious than you used to be, Dearie," the cook said. She had overheard Franziska asking Miles if he thought things seemed different when she came to deliver the tea. "So were not trying so hard to avoid you."

"Thank you," Miles said, standing up and going to help with the tray. Franziska remained sitting and frowning thoughtfully at the rug. She took her cup when Miles placed the tea set in front of her; pensively she stirred the drink.

"Do you agree with her?" Franziska asked, glancing up at him.

"It seems likely that the change has more to do with you than the whole of Germany," he told her, preparing his own tea.

"Don't be sarcastic, Miles Edgeworth, you don't have the sense of humor to pull it off."

"I wasn't being completely sarcastic," he said, leaning back in his chair, "As much as you like to pretend you're completely grown-up, you're still very young and you're still maturing."

"If this isn't a lead in to a compliment, I am going to hurt you," she threatened, one brow raised.

"I was going to say, that I think you've become much less self-absorbed. You're more aware of the people around you, and you're slightly more empathetic."

"Just slightly?" she asked. He nodded, and she threw a sugar cube at him.

He gave her a small smile, "I'm trying to compliment you."

"You're not trying very hard," she informed him. The two siblings went back to their work, Franziska organizing her case and Miles sorting through some of Manfred's finances. They were quiet as they worked, each thinking completely different thoughts.

"Dear God," Miles murmured eventually, "I'm going to have to call you're father's lawyer again."

"If I ever become a finance lawyer, I give you permission to shoot me," Franziska told him without looking up from her papers.

"If I did that," he said tiredly, "I'd have to call your Father's lawyer even more."

"Why do you have such a strong hatred for the man?" Franziska asked, at last raising her eyes.

"Every time I call him he makes me prove that I was legally adopted. It's very tiresome and I know he knows I'm telling the truth."

"Let me call him then," Franziska offered, "He won't question me."

"The servants have told me that a number of times. One of the maids even suggested we get married so that people would have to admit that I was technically an heir." Her expression changed to one of complete disgust. "I wasn't saying we should do it," He explained hurriedly.

"Mein Gott, I hope not," Franziska said, "Now hand me the phone."

oOo

May 8, 2019

Life was going about as well for Franziska as could have been expected. At work she was once again the prodigy, although she had lost a case or two when she really thought the defendant was innocent, it was a natural side effect that came from going up against Phoenix Wright. Her home life was pleasant as well, she was getting on much better with the servants, and she was glad that Miles Edgeworth was with her. She was even allowing herself a bit of free time every so often, and she had read a couple of excellent novels that she had never touched before.

The problem was that she still missed Diego. She would not have said she was unhappy, after all she was doing just fine without him, but something just felt empty. Franziska was perfectly fine, but when she had been with him, she had felt so much more than fine. The whole world had been wonderful, and now everything was plain again.

Yet she couldn't go back. She was utterly convinced that it would only hurt the both of them. So she remained in Germany, missing him, but trying to make do with what she had. Still she couldn't help but think of him, even as she refused to do anything about it.

Franziska knelt on the floor by the hearth in the library prodding the logs with a poker, her eyes looking at the flames without really seeing them. Miles sat behind her in an old and extravagant armchair. There was a large notebook on his lap, and he was trying to create a system of organization for von Karma's funds.

"Miles?" Franziska asked thoughtfully.

"Yes?" he encourage, surprised that she hadn't said his last name.

"Have you ever been in love?" She turned and looked at him, "And answer seriously. None of your failed sarcasm."

Miles leaned back into the soft plush of the armchair, and stared thoughtfully at the fire. He said nothing for a long time. Franziska watched him with mild concern. The look on his face was a distant one, his brow furrowed with deep melancholy.

"I don't know," he said finally, "Either way, I don't much see how it matters."

"Who?" Franziska asked quietly, wondering if she knew who it was.

"It doesn't matter," he answered his voice forlorn. "What matters is that we do what must be done."

"What are you talking about?" Franziska asked, confused.

"This is where I'm needed now," Miles told her. "There are things that have to be done here, things that have to be fixed and organized. Anything else can wait."

Franziska watched him as he sighed, gave one last glance at the fire, and returned to the numbers in his notebook. It was a side of him that she'd never seen before, and she found herself wishing that she had a more comforting personality. She settled for putting a hand on his knee.

"If there's anything you ever want to do, I can always take over here."

"It's fine," he answered. "It's of little consequence."

"I don't think so," Franziska told him, frowning, "I used to think such feelings were utterly foolish but…" she faltered, trying to figure out the best way to word her thoughts, "There's something to be said for a person who can bring you true contentedness."

"Do you speak from experience?" he asked laughing slightly as though it were a joke.

"Perhaps," she answered turning back to the fire.

oOo

May 20, 2019

Franziska felt that something was wrong. She had felt it for the past few days, but so far she had worked hard to ignore it. After all, gut instinct was something she had long looked down on. It was completely illogical to think that one could get a vague feeling that held even so much as a grain of truth.

Yet she couldn't help but feel that something was wrong, and the troubling sensation was with her constantly, at work or at home. She had tried to hide that she was having any sort of unease from those around her, but one night as she settled in front of the fire, Miles spoke out.

"What is it that's bothering you?" he said, closing his book and putting it on his lap. He looked at her with deep and honest concern.

She wasn't sure how to answer him. She had said nothing about what had happened in the U.S. after he had left, and she didn't know if she wanted to tell him now.

"Have you ever," she began carefully, "have you ever instinctively felt that something was terribly wrong with someone who was important to you?"

"Is this about Godot?"

"How did you know?" Franziska demanded, turning quickly to look at her brother.

"I like to think that I have relatively impressive deductive skills, but even if I didn't I imagine I could have worked it out." He sipped his tea and smirked slightly, the look did not entirely reach his eyes.

Franziska frowned, but decided that, so long as he knew that much, she might as well tell him the rest. "I left because I didn't think he was quite ready to be in a relationship just yet. There were some things he hadn't quite come to terms with yet. But lately I've just had this terrible feeling that something is wrong."

"I suppose everybody gets strange sensations of that sort upon occasion. However, I doubt they ever actually mean anything," he told her shrugging.

"So when exactly have you felt that way?" she asked, watching his face carefully.

"I can't think of anything specific," he said. "A couple times last month I had those random sort of feelings. Nothing came of them."

They were quiet again. Franziska had pulled her knees up to her chest and was running her finger along the grout of the hearth bricks absentmindedly. Miles was busying himself with his tea.

"I'm going back," Franziska said decidedly, slapping her hand against the floor and looking up at him. Miles looked at her seriously.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"I never say anything I'm not sure of," she told him, standing. He stood as well, putting his tea down as he did. He smiled at her gently before suddenly hugging her.

"You're a very strong woman, Franziska. I trust you won't do anything you do not want or think is in your best interest."

"I need to know that he's alright," she said hugging her brother back. "It will bother me forever if I do not go now."

Miles squeezed her tighter for just a moment before letting her go, "I wish you only good luck."

"Thank you, Miles" she said and hurried out of the room.

oOo

May 22, 2019

"Dammit Scruffy, where is he?" Franziska had been everywhere she could think to go. She had been to the Prosecutor's Office, gone to Diego's apartment, and had even checked their usual restaurant. He had been nowhere, no matter when she went, and when she had asked the secretary at the Prosecutor's Office if she knew where he was, the woman had refused to say. So Franziska had gone to the police office, and was currently threatening a terrified Gumshoe.

"Don't hurt me Sir!"

"Just tell me what you know," Franziska ordered. Gumshoe nodded.

"Maybe you should sit down first, Sir." Terror shot through her at the sound of those words. Her entire body tensed, and she set her jaw.

"Just say it," she said through gritted teeth.

"Yeah, okay. So, he was working on that case, see? The one you two were sharing before. So anyway, he was looking into some stuff, see? You heard about the gang before you left, right, sir?"

Franziska nodded, urging him on with his story.

"So I think he got a little too close to the gang. So he became sort of a target, see?" He stopped abruptly and looked at her sadly.

"What happened!? Dammit Scruffy, tell me!" she screamed.

"He's in the hospital, Sir! They hit him with a car. It wouldn't have been so very bad, but he's not so very well, see? He got busted up a fair amount, and that mask of his was completely destroyed." Franziska felt faint, and for a moment she thought her legs wouldn't support her.

"No," she said suddenly. "I can feel weak later. Now," she turned to Gumshoe, "You take me to where he is."

oOo

"I'm sorry, but he's asked not to have any visitors. You can try coming back on another day if you wish," the nurse at the desk smiled kindly at Franziska. Franziska did not smile kindly back.

"I don't think you know who I am," she said, leaning over the desk and frowning down at the woman.

"It doesn't matter who you are. He's asked that no visitors be allowed in his room, and we have to abide by that. If you do not leave than I'm going to have to call someone and have you removed."

"I have a burly police officer waiting downstairs, and if you do not let me in, I am going to have to call him and have _you_ removed," Franziska growled, giving the woman a look that made it perfectly clear that she was serious.

"That's not true…" the nurse said, but she didn't sound terribly convinced. Franziska turned on her heel, prepared to go and fetch the detective. "Wait," the nurse called, her voice high and frightened. "I suppose I could let you in, at least for a little while."

"How terribly gracious of you," Franziska said, her voice dripping in sarcasm, "Now what number was his room again?"

oOo

A numbing silence hung over the hospital room and it cooled Franziska's heated temper. Diego lay sleeping soundly in his bed, completely unaware of her presence. She approached him slowly, and sat down by his side.

Though she had seen his bare face before, on those occasions when she had spitefully stolen his mask, she had never really _looked_ at it. She had never noticed that his brows retained the same dark coloring of his beard, or just how strong and handsome the bridge of his nose was, and she was now transfixed by the thin scar that crossed over his face.

His eyelids fluttered softly and then opened. Franziska sat back abruptly, thinking, for a moment, that he had seen her. But, of course, he hadn't. His eyes mesmerized her. They were still brown, the color she knew he'd been born with, but there was cloudiness to them. His pupils moved about, sightless, and he did not see her, even as she stared on him.

He sat up with a heavy sigh and turned towards Franziska, reaching out to the table beside her. His fingers fumbled clumsily about until he finally found a small orange bottle of pills. He began to open it, but stopped, sighed, and placed it back on the table.

"You were supposed to take one, weren't you?" Franziska asked without thinking.

"Oh my God!" Diego looked wildly about, "Who's there?"

"It's alright, Diego. Calm down," Franziska said, reaching out and taking his arm firmly. An expression of total confusion crossed his face. His brows furrowed, and suddenly his eyes grew wide.

"Franziska?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," she said, "It's me." Following her touch, Diego reached out and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in the crook of her neck. There was one heavy sob, and she felt warm tears on her skin. He then pulled back quickly and wiped at his eyes with the back of his wrist.

"I'm sorry," he told her. "I just haven't heard a familiar voice in so long."

"Well that's no surprise," Franziska leaned forward and wiped a missed tear from his cheek, "Apparently you forbid anyone from visiting."

"I wasn't in the mood to pitied," Diego said darkly.

"But I'm acceptable?"

"I would never worry about you being too compassionate," he answered, almost smiling. Suddenly he looked at her in confusion, "but what the hell are you doing here? I thought you went back to Germany."

"I did," Franziska said, "But I was worried you'd do something stupid, so I came back. I knew investigating was dangerous, I should never have let you go alone."

"Don't mock me now, Ziska. I have it bad enough."

"It's better than pity," she said. "Now take your pills, or I'll hit you."

Diego did as he was told, before settling back in his blankets and staring sightlessly at the ceiling. Franziska sat beside him, saying nothing, just watching him. There was a heavy melancholy air about him.

"Are you still mad at me, Ziska?" he whispered finally.

"I wasn't mad," she said, taking his hand. "Well, I may have been somewhat mad… but that wasn't all of it. You had things to work out, and I felt I couldn't be there while you did it."

"Are you going to leave again?" his voice sounded terribly lost.

"Maybe. But not until you're better," she stood up and placed a hand gently on his hair. "I'll come back tomorrow. But I left the detective downstairs and I should really return him to the police station."

oOo

May 27, 2019

Franziska had come back the next day, and the day after that, and the one after that, and so on, until it could no longer have been possible for Diego to believe that anything could stop her from coming. Conventionally speaking she was not a terribly comforting presence. She did not fluff pillows or listen sympathetically when he fell into self-pity. In fact whenever he got to feeling bad for himself she would mock him, or go out into the hospital and come back with a story so terribly tragic that he could not help but feel lucky.

But, it was because she behaved like this that he liked having her there. She was so completely logical, that she made it difficult for him to put things wildly out of perspective. On top of this she was helpful, without ever being patronizing. She would fetch him something if he asked her too, but never if he was capable of doing it himself. In fact, she would often force him to do things if she thought he could.

"Oh come now, Diego, you're perfectly capable of pouring that for yourself," Franziska snapped one afternoon. She had brewed him some coffee that morning and had left the pot with a mug by his bedside.

"What if I spill it?" he argued.

"Then we'll call the nurse and she can bring you new blankets," she answered simply. He glared at her, before very carefully pouring himself a mug. He slopped a little on his hand.

"Shit," he growled. Franziska tossed a hand towel at him from where she sat. It landed on his head. "What's this?"

"It's a towel. Wipe your hand off, and get the bit that's on the table."

Diego dried his hand and the table in silence. Suddenly he threw the towel to the ground and swore. "I'm so damn useless!"

Franziska looked up at him, before putting down the paper she had been reading and going to sit on the side of his bed. "You're frustrated, aren't you?"

"You think?" he asked testily. She hit him up the side of the head.

"I'm trying to be nice!" she snapped.

"I know. I'm sorry," he said quietly, "It's just… I hate being this weak! I hate having to have everything done for me like I'm some sort of child."

Franziska placed one of her hands over his, and rubbed it gently. "I know you hate this, but it will get better. They'll be able to get you a new mask eventually, and even if they couldn't, you'd be able to learn how to care for yourself just fine. You just have to learn how to do things little by little, and then you'll be fine. Sometimes I think you're so afraid of being weak, that you just cover up your problems and never learn to overcome them."

She leaned against him, continuing to hold his hand gently. It was the closest they'd been since he'd embraced her on the day of their reunion. Franziska liked being so near to him, but still she held herself back from doing anything more and they sat there in silence as Diego mulled over what she had said.

"I never really noticed that you wore gloves before," he told her quietly, putting his other hand over hers.

"See," she said laughing slightly, "eyes are over rated."

oOo

May 30, 2019

"Daddy! I found the room. It's this one, see? It's got the right numbers!"

"I think your right. Good job, Kiddo."

And then there was a knock on the door. Franziska turned to look at Diego who was currently raising an eyebrow.

"Could it be one of your brother in laws?" she asked him, unable to think of any other fathers of young children who might be visiting.

"I doubt it," Diego said shrugging. "You should probably see who it is."

Slowly Franziska went to the door and opened it. She stood staring in shock.

"Who is it?" Diego called from his bed.

"A hobo and a small girl in a top hat," Franziska answered, her voice portraying her own bewilderment.

"Just because I'm blind doesn't mean you can make shit up," he called back angrily.

The little girl tugged at the man's sleeve, and when he looked down she spoke to him in an overdramatic stage whisper, "Take off your hat. They don't know who you are!"

The man obliged, and suddenly Franziska found herself facing a man she knew well. "It's Phoenix Wright." She said.

"Guess you haven't been keeping up with the news much, huh?" Phoenix asked, laughing to himself in an uncharacteristically bitter way.

"So you made up the hobo?" Diego called out.

"No," Franziska answered, "Phoenix Wright is the hobo." There was no response. She continued to stare in bewilderment at Phoenix, as the little girl slipped past her and went to stare at Diego.

"Your eyes are pretty cool looking, but I wanted to see your toaster face," she told him.

"Trucy, you really shouldn't say stuff like that," Phoenix said weakly, looking rather embarrassed.

"But you said his face looked like a toaster. It sounded awesome!" She skipped over to her father and looked up at him excitedly.

"Whose the kid?" Diego asked, deciding it wasn't worth the effort to ask about precisely what Phoenix had told the child.

"This is Trucy. She's kind of on her own right now, so she's staying with me for a little while."

The child gave a theatrical bow, before realizing that Diego couldn't see anything. "I just bowed," she informed him.

"Why are you dressed like that?" Franziska demanded, uninterested in the child's antics.

"It's kind of a long story. I'm sure you can find out everything you need to know if you search my name on any local newspaper's website. I'm more worried about Armando, here. I heard you got hit by a car."

"It's not so bad," Diego said gruffly. "It's more old stuff acting up than anything else. I'd feel bad complaining about it to a guy who fell thirty feet off a burning bridge."

"Still, it must be pretty boring being stuck here all day. I brought you some books if you want them. I found them cleaning out the office, and I thought you might need something to do." Phoenix said. Trucy took off her hat and pulled out three fat little novels.

"You just missed a magic trick," Franziska informed Diego, as she took the novels from the child's eager hands.

"They must've been some of your dead girlfriend's favorites, since she kept them in her office and all that," Trucy said excitedly.

"I really need to stop telling her things," Phoenix muttered, sounding weary but amused. "Anyway we should get back to cleaning. I hope to see you guys around sometime."

He nodded to Franziska, and then steered his excitable new daughter out the door. A befuddled silence hung in the room for some minutes after they left.

"Well that was bizarre," Franziska said dully, "I really need to find out what happened."

"You spend a month or two in the hospital and you miss everything," Diego muttered. He shrugged and then asked, "What books did he bring?"

Franziska looked down at the novels she was holding. "_Wuthering Heights_, _Jane Eyre,_ and_ Pride and Prejudice_. Sort of a girly assortment if you ask me."

"You don't like romance novels, Ziska?" Diego asked chuckling.

"They're generally rather foolish. There's a sticky note on _Jane Eyre_, it seems that Phoenix Wright thinks that we'd enjoy it."

"Maybe later," Diego said smirking, "I don't think you an I could make it through a romance novel together without mocking the thing to shreds."

oOo

June 5, 2019

Another week had passed, bringing with it a few more visitors. Diego's mother had swept in, bringing with her an impressive array of cookies and homemade cards from all the nieces and nephews. She had hugged her son, scolded him for refusing to see her earlier, and proceeded to clean and organize the entire room.

Gumshoe had visited as well, bringing with him the news that their case had entered the court stage and was now being handled by some brilliant new prosecutor. Franziska had felt a twinge of jealousy when she had found out that he was even younger than herself, but overall she decided that he could have the case so long as he won it.

There had also been a few long phone calls with Miles Edgeworth, who had taken the news about Phoenix's disbarment rather hard, but who still insisted that he must remain in Germany.

For the most part, however, the two of them were alone. Somehow they had fallen back into their old report. They enjoyed one another's presence and conversation immensely, and both were happy to have the other there. Yet things had not returned entirely to the way they'd been before. Neither made any romantic gesture to the other, each too afraid of that something would go wrong.

When Franziska arrived one morning in early June, she found Diego standing by the window of his room and letting a warm breeze play across his face. He was dressed in his own clothing, rather than the hospital issue pajamas she'd seen him in so often recently. He turned to her when he heard the door open, and smiled.

"I'm being released," he told her.

"Now?" she asked, mildly shocked.

"I think they're sick of haggling with my insurance company," he said with a laugh. "They had someone in here earlier trying to teach me how to use this," he brandished a white cane, "Sexy, no?"

"You're awfully cheery this morning," Franziska commented, going to join him by the window. She scrutinized the cane closely, "You could whack someone pretty well with that."

He chuckled, and sat himself down on the sill. Franziska joined him, sitting so close that they were pressed together. A pensive look passed over his face, "Are you going back to Germany?"

She frowned, thoughtfully, "I don't think so," she said eventually, "Are you going to come back to work."

A surprisingly shy smile graced his face, and he reached his hand out to her. "That's one of the reasons I asked if you were staying. I'm not sure that I'll be too much use by myself. I was wondering if we could, maybe, work together a little. I thought we made a pretty good team."

"You want my help?" she asked, although the words were less a question than they were her thoughts taking form.

"I know I was kind of an ass before," he said quietly, giving her hand a squeeze, "But I swear I won't be so controlling anymore. I don't mind depending on you every once in a while." He waited, in darkness, for her answer, wishing he could see the expression on her face. He wanted to know what she was thinking, whether or not she was disgusted by the idea of ever working with him again.

Suddenly, however, he felt her arms around his neck, her lips on his own, and something wet on his cheek. "Are you crying, Ziska?"

"No," she said cheerfully, her voice shaking with the effort of hiding her tears. "I'm just… happy." She kissed him again, leaning her whole body against him.

Diego did not know what to think. He enjoyed having her there in his arms, but it was all so sudden that he felt altogether shocked. Eventually he managed to choke out the word, "Why?"

"I think I love you more than ever," she answered, laying her head against his chest.

"But… why?" he asked again, still bewildered. His voice was sorrowful, "I'm so much older than you, Franziska. And I'm weak and I'm blind. Why would you ever want to be with me?"

"Because you're just as amusing, just as clever, just as handsome, and just as strong as you ever were before, but your not nearly so stubborn and proud. I like you so much better this way." She smiled up at him. "It's much easier to like someone when they feel that they can depend on you a little."

Diego smiled at her, that rare, beautiful, and genuine smile that she had fallen in love with. She saw, at last, the rest of the expression, the pleasant crinkling of his eyes, and slight raise of brows. He kissed her gently on the forehead and tightened his embrace.

"So none of it bothers you?" he asked, this time sounding willing to believe.

"Of course not. Your eyesight is already shot, and your hair is already gray; so what does it matter what the age difference is, since I won't be able to tell when you start growing old before me?" She smirked at him, and was met with the satisfaction of his deep and pleasing laughter.


End file.
